My Darling Bride
by April Blackwood
Summary: Clair Johnson is mistakenly taken to Mount Massive Asylum instead of Clarence Johnson. She soon meets up with Waylon Park after all hell breaks loose, but they don't stick together long before The Groom (Eddie Gluskin) decides he's found his bride. (Mature: blood, profanity, violence, sexual content, smut. For those who want to know, smut is in chapter 6. Heyooo)
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello people! So I've started working on an outlast fanfiction. For those of you waiting for the Loki fanfiction, no worries! I'll be starting on the next chapter this coming week. I'll be updating both at the same time now that school is out :)**_

_**Enjoy the carnage!**_

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She was covered in blood – and it wasn't hers. Thank god it wasn't hers. Clair's eyes flashed down to the dismembered body of a security guard, the guard that brought her here in the first place.

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They had shown up at the hospital she was at earlier that day, saying that Mount Massive Asylum had a new type of therapy, one, they said, that would expedite her recovery. She'd signed the forms, said her good-byes to the staff that had taken care of her since the trial, and headed out.

Unfortunately, they had made a mistake.

The doctors were furious with the security officer who brought her in, saying they had asked for _Clarence _Johnson, not_ Clair_ Johnson. The guard apologized profusely, but said there had been no Clarence, only a Clair, he'd just assumed they had decided to start _testing _on women again. Testing – the word made her stomach tie up in knots. It was at that point she knew something was wrong, much more wrong then her just being a women.

"I apologies for this inconvenience," The doctor had said, a small, condescending smile on his face, "But we can't let you leave here. Not after what you've heard, what you might have seen." The doctor then turned to the guard and gave him a nod, indicating he needed to take her from the room.

"Put her in a holding cell until we find the time to operate on her – we'll be removing her uterus. Perhaps doing so will prevent the phantom pregnancy and give us more time to experiment."

She struggled, struggled like she'd never done before – not even with _him. _She screamed, and she cussed, but the guard assured her no one could hear, and if they did, they wouldn't help. As Clair had started her third round of shouting, her voice was drown out by the sound of alarms. The security guard looked around concerned and reached for his radio, but he didn't have time to take it from his belt. A large gray mist in the form of a man had lingered down the hall in front of them. The guard had let her go then, backing up slowly. He had started to say something, but Clair couldn't hear him over the alarms, his mouth just moved in panicked silence.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone – at least that's how it looked. In the time it had taken Clair to look from the hall to the guard, he was already flouting in the air – screaming, she had assumed. His arms and chest started to contort, and in a quick instant, he exploded from the inside out.

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Clair held back a gag and turned her head from the gore. Was the monster still here? No, if it was, it would have already been on her by now. The alarms had stopped not seconds after the guard had been killed, and now the flashing red lights were all that remained. Clair needed to get out of here now, while the getting was good. They'd all be in a panic about whatever was going on, and she'd, hopefully, be able to sneak out. She then glanced down at her cuffs, and let out an irritated huff. She wouldn't be getting anywhere far in these.

She knew where the keys could be, but she didn't know if she would be able to go through with it. Clair turned back to what was left of the guard and took a breath. There weren't exactly too many options, it was dig through that, or walk around an asylum for the criminally insane in handcuffs. Clair hesitantly stepped over to the body and knelt down, her knees producing and ungodly squishing noise as she did. _Breath, _she told herself. With shaking hands she reached into the body, moving around bones and muscles in an attempt to find his belt. It fortunately didn't take too long, and as quickly as she could Clair rummaged through all of the pockets attached to the belt.

"Thank _God." _She said aloud, holding the key between her bloody fingers. This was the first good thing to happen to her all day. Clair anxiously attempted to put the key in the slot, but with her hands still shaking, she was having some trouble.

Once free she stood up and looked around, suddenly aware that she had no idea where to go. This was a different hallway then the one they'd used to bring her to the doctors. A slight wave of panic set in and her legs felt unstable – as if they'd crumble if she'd try to move. Her luxury of standing in silence didn't last long, as it was interrupted by blood curtailing screams. Where were they coming from? From behind her or in front? It honestly sounded like it came from both directions.

Clair turned in place for a moment, deciding if she should continue on down the hall they were bringing her, or turn back to where she'd met the doctors. That's when she spotted it – a pipe, hanging lose from the ceiling above. If she was going to walk around the asylum, she wasn't about to do it unarmed. It took a couple of hefty jumps to get her fingers around it, being as short as she was, but once Clair had it in hand her weight was enough to pull it out. A small amount of putrid smelling water poured out of what was left of the pipe above, and she stepped back to avoid it.

"Alright, I need a plan." She said aloud to herself, "Find an elevator, and get to the main entrance – hopefully unnoticed – then get the hell out."

She nodded, and tried to reassure herself that the plan she'd come up with wasn't _completely _insane and destined to fail. Clair turned to go down the hall the guard had been leading her before when she stopped cold. Someone was at the other end, where that mist monster had been. He was in a patient outfit same as her, but he didn't look too out of it. The only thing that kept her from advancing was the object he was holding in his hand – a weapon maybe? It kind of looked like a video camera.

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Thanks for reading! Pictures for these chapters and other outlast drawings I do will be on my tumblr! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey people! Thanks you all for the reviews, favs, and follows! Much appreciated! :) No Eddie in this chapter, but he'll probably show up in chapter 3 or 4, depending on where I decided to end the next one, than the majority of the fanfiction will have him in it. As for my Loki fanfiction, may take a little longer to get to the next chapter. I Normally update at the same time as my friend, but she's been super busy lately. **

**Enjoy!**

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That was a camera alright – and the man moved it away from his face to peer down the hall at Clair. They stood there like this for a moment, both trying to gauge the sanity of the other, and it was she who broke the silence first.

"Hello? Sir?" She called out, barely lowering her pipe. "I'm trying to find a way out of here."

"Well that makes two of us." He called back, smiling. Clair grinned back, relieved to meet someone not trying to either kill her or cut her uterus out. The two approached each other slowly, both pleased by the new situation, but neither one throwing caution to the wind.

"My name is Clair Johnson." She said while passing her pipe to a single hand and carefully holding out the other.

"Waylon Park." He replied, giving her hand a firm shake. "I'm honestly glad to meet someone here who's not completely off their rocker. How long have you been here? I thought women were no longer aloud in Mount Massive."

"They brought me here on accident," Clair said, exasperated. "I – I just want to get out. I've only been here a couple hours, but it feels like so much longer."

"Well, if you were heading the way I was just coming from, you're not going to get anywhere. All of the patients here are roaming around – killing people – it's horrible. There are bodies everywhere. The only exit I know about is back that way." He pointed at the hallway behind Clair. "But, I think it's locked. With the alarm system active, I doubt it's going to open."

Clair leaned her back against the nearest wall and let her pipe hang loose while her other hand came up to cover her face. How was she going to get out now? People were _dying. _Fuck, she wasn't ready for this. She didn't know how to fend a person off. She was going to die right along with everyone else.

"Don't look too dejected," Waylon said, starting down the hall. "This place is a shit hole, we can find another way to the main floor."

Clair pushed herself from the wall and followed behind him, the distance between them growing smaller as they turned down another hallway where the lights were off. Everything she could have possibly tripped over, she did. She wondered ideally how Waylon was able to keep walking straight without any issues; then it hit her. The camera. Clair peered over his shoulder and saw him holding it up to his face, the night vision turned on guiding him.

"I'm just going to hold on to the back of your shirt." She said, gripping onto it before he even had a chance to reply. They continued on like that, in the dark, for a few moments until Waylon stopped dead in his tracks. Clair bumped into the back of him, startling them both.

"What's wrong?" She asked just above a whisper.

"There's a man sitting in a chair up there. I'm going to try and move around him. Just keep close."

Clair held her breath as Waylon slowly made his way around the patient. She glanced over in the direction she presumed the man to be sitting, and caught a quick glimpse of him in the slight sliver of moon light leaking through the boarded up windows. His face was in his hands and he seemed to be muttering something, incoherent. He must have felt her watching him, because right as they made their way past him he shot up, gripping the messy, curly bun on the top of her head. A scream toe through her tightly sealed lips and she whipped around, hitting the man in the ribs with her pipe. He faltered he faltered and let go of her bun, but was but was on the offensive again once he'd recovered.

"Please don't come any closer," she begged, holding her pipe out in front of herself. She didn't want to hurt anyone, and she certainly didn't want to _kill _anyone. _Not again_. As the man made his move, Clair aimed higher and slammed the pipe into his skull with a sickening crack. The man went limp and collapsed into a heap on the ground.

"_Oh God no." _she said, immediately kneeling down next to him and placing a hand on his back. Clair felt his body lift and fall in a breathing rhythm and let out a breath of her own, relieved. He wasn't dead. She hadn't killed him. Waylon, who had taken a few steps back to allow her to bat his head off, approached and placed a hand on her back.

"We need to keep moving. I know this must be hard for you – but you may actually have to kill someone today. It's going to be their life or yours."

Clair swallowed loudly and on quivering legs stood. Even if she _might_ have to kill someone later, she at least hadn't killed this man right now. She picked up her pipe from the ground now smudged with blood as well as rust, and turned back to Waylon.

"Can we make a deal?" She asked, her face serious in the dim light of the camera. "If I don't see you get killed, if I just see you get dragged off somewhere – I'll come and get you. Ok? Will you do the same for me?"

The question seemed to catch Waylon off guard, and he looked at her in silence for several seconds before he answered.

"Yes," He said, "Yes, of course. I'll do my best."

Clair's shoulders slacked and she sighed with relief. It was something at least, some safety net she could say she had. She latched back onto the back of his shirt and the two continued down the dark hallway.

"How is it you know your way around here?" She asked.

"I actually used to work in the tech department here. After I found out the types of things they were doing to the patients, I kind of blew the whistle on the whole thing and sent out information to a reporter. They found out, and decided to use me as a subject. They thankfully didn't get very far." He stopped and shifted to look at Clair. "What about you? You aid they brought you here?"

Clair's body stiffened at the question, and Waylon noticed.

"I was at a real hospital for the criminally insane before I came here." She said as nonchalantly as she could muster. Clair tried to continue on down the hallway when she felt Waylon's hand grip her arm.

"Whoa, what?" He said. "Listen, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't ask you this – but what did you do? I need to know if I might have to put my life on the line for you, Clair."

Was he kidding? No, why would he be? It was an honest and completely legitimate question. But she didn't want to talk about _him. _The things _he _did to her – the things that he made her do. Clair wrung her hands a few times, her eyes scanning everywhere in the darkness except Waylon's illuminated face.

"I killed my husband."

Her words seem to sit in the air for far too long, and she felt like they needed further explanation. They needed something to make her statement seem more _justified. _What could she say? The truth, she supposed. But it always made her feel like it was _her _fault when she talked about it. Waylon was waiting, staring at her expectantly.

"He – um, was abusive." She murmured, her eyes locking with his. There was more to the story, but Waylon seemed to accept what little insight he had been granted.

"You did what you had to do then, just like you're going to be doing here." He said softly, breaking his silence.

She wanted to tell him, to tell him everything. She never got to tell anyone what happened, other than her lawyer. Her husband was abusive. Broke a lot of bones – she actually couldn't even remember how many. He'd tell her what to wear, where she could go, who she could _speak to. _She tried to leave him – she really did try. But he wouldn't let her. He told her she couldn't, and he didn't let Clair have any friends, so she didn't have people to fall back on. She could have gone on like that, she was ashamed to admit, but then he wanted kids, and she said no. She wasn't going to let him do to them what he was doing to her. Clair didn't remember much after he started yelling – just that she had killed him. Her lawyer, to keep her out of prison, had Clair plead temporary insanity.

But who wanted to hear all of that? _She _didn't even want to acknowledge it happened most of the time. The sound of an electric saw shook her from her thoughts, and Clair only briefly realized she'd left Waylon hanging before the saw whirred again. Clair and Waylon glanced at each other uneasily and stood in the darkness, waiting. They both thought they might have just been hearing things, ('Neither of them seemed willing to admit they'd actually heard anything, until the sound of a man's voice echoed down the hall way.

"_I can smell you!"_

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**Thanks for reading! Drawings/doodles for this chapter can be found on my tumblr page :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 is up! enjoy!**

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They had been hiding in lockers for more than half an hour. Every time they thought it was clear to come out, the sound of the saw would go off nearby and they'd jump back in. This man wanted to _eat them, _and Clair guessed it wasn't in the fancy Hannibal Lecter way.

"Do you think it's safe now?" Clair whispered.

"Safe? No. It's never going to be safe here. But we can't stay in these lockers forever." Waylon said, stepping out of his hiding place. Clair followed his lead, careful not to make any noise. The two went in the opposite direction of the saw noises and soon encountered a large kitchen. Waylon lingered in the doorway, the camera close to his face as he tried to look inside.

"I can't really see much from here – I'm going to go ahead. Just wait till I come back." He said. Clair was about to protest, to suggest it was probably a horrible idea for them to split up, but he had already moved into the darkness. It was uncomfortably quiet then, and Clair did her best not to start humming to fill the silence.

"You smell so good." A voice behind her whispered, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end. "You're much more delicate then the others – you're going to be _delicious_."

Before she really knew what was happening the man gripped her shoulder and pushed her back in the direction she'd come in before. The force sent her to the ground, her head bouncing off the floor causing her vision to explode with white orbs. From what she could see, the man was tall and skinny with crude cuts up the center of his chest, and he sported nothing but a pair of blood covered underwear.

"You're mine!" He roared, the saw in his hand now whirring furiously. Clair crawled back on her elbows as best she could, but the cannibal was on top of her before she could get very far. He swung the saw at her head and the blades sliced her cheek as she turned from the attack.

"WAYLON!" She cried. She was going to die – going to be _eaten. _The man pulled the saw up again to try for another blow, but Clair got her legs situated under his stomach and flung him back. By the time he regained his footing, she was already half way down the hall. The lockers, she had to get back there and hide. Clair swung open the first door to her left and bolted in, only to freeze there in horror. She was in the _wrong room. _The lockers had been to her right, not left. Clair spun around to see the cannibal standing in the doorway, pure hunger engraved in his face.

"So tender." He said while salivating profusely and taking a step towards her. "So sweet."

Clair probably would have been done for, if something further down the hall hadn't caught his attention. The man looked panicked for a moment, then angry.

"Fuck!" He shouted, his eyes boring into her skull. "I'll be back for you. You're mine! Mine!" He hesitated for only another moment, then darted out of the room.

_Thank. God. _Clair felt her whole body tingle and she slowly knelt to the floor. Waylon must have finally picked up a weapon and come to get her – about fucking time. She was ready to move towards the door when the sound of absurdly loud footsteps echoed down the hall. Clair slowly moved behind an oak desk in the office and peered out from under it. A man, if she could really call it that, passed in front of the door. He was probably over 7 feet, and it almost looked like his nose and lips had been completely torn off.

"I thought I heard a little piggy." He said, his voice deep and rough. Clair instinctively cupped her hands over her mouth, not wanting him to somehow hear her slight breathing. The giant fortunately didn't stick around long, and continued past her room. Clair stayed quite for a while, her body curled in a fetal position under the desk. Where was Waylon? She needed to go and find him, she promised him that she would. It took her several tries and a lot of will power to get her limbs working again. She stumbled over to the door and poked her head out, and a wave of relief rushed over her.

"Waylon – did you see it?" She asked as he walked towards her.

"You mean the giant? Yeah. I was hiding in the broken fridge while he was walking around. I think he went the other way though – so we should be alright." Waylon looked into the room Clair was still currently in, and a smile played at his lips.

"This is a doctor's office – they could have a card key in here!" He quickly placed his camera on the desk and started to go through the drawers.

Clair thought about rummaging through the desk with him, but she had no idea what she would be looking for. It was better to just let him do his work. Her eyes then wandered to what was on top of the desk and her eyebrows raised in interest. A single manila folder with the red letters classified stamped on the top. Clair picked it up and flipped it open, reading its contents out loud.

"Eddie Gluskin," She began, "case number 196, age 46, and he was admitted to Mount Massive Asylum on Valentine's day." Clair heard Waylon stop suddenly, and he peered up from the drawer he currently had open to look at her.

"Gluskin?" He said. "Poor bastard. I saw him getting put into the engine right before all of this went down – must be why the file is out of the desk like this." Waylon turned his attention back to the desk, and Clair looked down at the file. She started to read the rest silently, her stomach twisting at his past childhood abuse, then it knotting even more when she got to his victims. Clair threw the file back down on rubbed her arms, suddenly finding herself very cold.

"Are all the patients here this deranged? We have a guy trying to eat us, a mountain walking around looking for pigs, and now a man who mutilates women." She said, a hint of disgust in her voice.

"Unfortunately, yes." He replied, stepping back from the desk with a sigh of defeat. "There aren't any key cards here. Fuck."

The two glanced around the room now, both at a loss as to what to do next. Clair's gaze fell on the window behind Waylon and her face bloomed into a smile.

"That window – it's doesn't have the wires on it like the other's do, think we can get out?"

Waylon turned to where she was indicating then pushed a chair over to the small window. He nosily opened it and poked his head out, a grin on his lips when he pulled back in.

"It's a bit of a fall, but better than being in here. We just need to get across this small section of courtyard, then we can get in through one of the art room windows. The exit should be close by."

Waylon helped Clair up to the window edge and she only paused for a second to look down before jumping. Out of everything she'd been through today, falling a couple of feet was a walk in the park. She landed on the grass with a thud and let out a hiss of pain. Her knee had slid across the ground where she landed, leaving a small gash behind. Waylon landed next to her, a rush of air leaving his mouth when he hit.

They rushed over to the next building unmolested, and found a door that had actually been bent. Clair was happy they didn't need to figure out how to reach the high bared windows. Waylon squeezed through the opening first, his shirt clinging and ripping on the metal as he went inside. Clair then did the same, only she had it much easier - being barely over five feet and a hundred pounds soaking wet had some advantages. They followed the stairs up till they reached what looked like a sewing room. Fabric was strewn on the floor and packed away in shelves, most of which looked unused, but it may have just been due to all the dust.

Waylon slipped between two sewing machine tables to get to the next door. He gripped the handle tightly and gave it a good shake, but it was locked. As he pulled away from the door, a man's face peered through the small rectangular window.

"Darling!" The man exclaimed, a smile stretching ear to ear. Waylon jerked back, horrified, before quickly ducking under one of the tables and motioning for Clair to follow him.

"Did I scare you? I'm awfully sorry, I didn't mean to." The patient said, his voice sounding smooth, but slightly hindered by a lisp.

"We've met before, haven't we?" He said, his voice starting to sound closer. "I know I've seen your face."

The patient now stood in front of their hiding place, and what they could see of him turned as he looked around, searching. He then continued further into the room, his pace slow and deliberate.

"Maybe, just before I woke up." The man said. Waylon started to inch out from under the table, his camera glued to his face.

"When I run, he's going to look in my direction. You try and go the other way and we'll meet up later." Waylon whispered, then bolted from the table.

"No!" Clair hissed out in a hushed voice, her hand reaching to try and catch him – but he was already gone. The patient's head snapped in the direction that Waylon ran, and he quickened his pace to go after him. Clair took the opportunity to turn herself around and face the door they'd originally seen him standing in. She was about to crawl out when a large hand gripped her leg and dragged her out from under the table.

At first, he was smiling, but once he leaned in and got a better look at her, he seemed more confused than anything else.

"You're not the one I saw through the window." He said, pulling her closer to him by her leg. "But look at _you. _Already perfect. No surgery needed! How wonderful! You're going to be the perfect bride, darling, and we're going to have the most perfect babies."

A pang of horror swept through Clair's body and she shook her leg violently to get it out of his grasp. He was leaning down to pick her up, telling her that she didn't need to play hard to get anymore, when she kicked him in the jaw. The man chucked her across the floor and she immediately scrambled to get to her feet.

"Fucking _whore!" _He bellowed, his voice dripping with rage. Clair was already running, but she knew he'd be close behind. As she turned a corner to move down another hallway, the patient grabbed onto her hair and threw her back onto the ground, her bun coming undone in the process.

"I just wanted you to have my children!" He yelled, "But what kind of mother would you be, you slut?"

Clair had dragged herself over to one of the corners and sat there shivering, his words triggering something inside of her she thought she'd never have to endure again. She'd killed _him. _This was supposed to be _over. _

"Please, oh please no!" She begged, but he continued to advance towards her, a knife clutched firmly in his hand. "I don't want to die! Please!"

He was practically on top of her now, his hand resting above her head for support as he pulled back the knife. When Clair looked up, it wasn't the patient, it was Mark.

"I didn't want you to hurt them!" She screamed out, her body shaking with fear. She wasn't talking to the man anymore. "I didn't want you to hurt my children. I couldn't let you hurt my baby – I did what I had to do!" She started to sob now, tears flowing down her face and dripping off her chin. Clair vaguely noticed the man's demeanor change, and he placed the knife down by his side.

"Oh _Darling_." He said affectionately and placed both of his hands on her face to turn her head to his. "I would never, _ever, _do anything to hurt our babies. Nor would I let anyone else harm them either. You understand that, don't you sweetheart? I want to be the father I never had."

The patient sat on the floor and pulled her into his arms, causing Clair to sob more with fear and frustration. Clair had no idea how to respond to him, so she just continued to cry, her face now stuffed against his chest. Every touch, every _slight caress _of her back made her flinch with disgust. Mark wasn't supposed to be able to touch her again.

"Hush now my love. No need to cry anymore." He pulled her away from him and brushed the tears away gently with his thumb. "I understand why you ran now darling, you just wanted to protect your babies – but you know better now, I _forgive_ you."

Clair started to calm down, her breathing slowed as she scanned the man's face, realizing that it wasn't her husband. He looked horrible – there seemed to be sores or an allergic reaction up the side of his face. If it weren't for that, he actually might have been handsome. The patient lifted Clair off the ground and held her in his arms bridal style. She wanted to try and squirm, move from his grip and go find Waylon, but she just couldn't budge. Her body wasn't responding to her anymore.

"Now, we need to go get you ready darling – or should I say the soon to be Mrs. Gluskin? You're going to love your dress."

Clair's brow furrowed at his last remark, and her eyes widened with realization. Gluskin? _Eddie Gluskin? _Images of the mutilated women in his file swirled through her mind and she thought she was going to puke all over him. If Clair ever thought she was getting out of this asylum, all hopes of that were gone now. As Eddie started to hum Clair's world went black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, chapter 4 up! as always you can find the doodles for this chapter on my tumblr page - amarvelfangirl. I appreciate all the wonderful reviews and comments I've been receiving, and I hope you all continue to read and enjoy the story. :**

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Clair woke up to the sound of singing. She couldn't quite make out all the words, and the voice seemed far away, but it had something to do with an old fashioned girl and a dear old dad. She wanted to open her eyes but her body was much too comfortable on whatever soft surface she'd been put. As the singing started becoming clearer, Clair lifted herself from what she assumed was a mattress. There was a dull pain in her cheek from where the cannibal had cut her, and she was surprised to find it had been bandaged. The florescent lights in the room blinded her and made it hard to see anything right away – was she in a cage? Clair looked to be in a storage area surrounded by a wire fence. She glanced down at her bed, and guessed that must have been dragged in here from somewhere else. She grabbed at her right wrist, looking for her hair tie, but it was gone. She cursed inwardly that she'd have to leave her hair down – it was such a pain, especially when trying to get away from people.

Unfortunately for Clair, being surround by wire was the least of her worries. She had noticed the horrible stench when she first became conscious, but had no idea what could have been causing it until now. Across form her cage was a wooden table, covered in blood, with a buzz saw situated at one end. Clair cupped a hand over her mouth as she scanned the mess, her gag reflex kicking in when her eyes landed on the body parts hanging from the ceiling. This was bad. She now silently wished that the cannibal had just cut her throat instead of her face. It would have saved her from the pain she was expecting to endure here.

The singing was in the room now and Clair turned her head to watch Eddie Gluskin come into view.

"Oh, you're awake Darling! Good. I hope you enjoyed your nap. We have a big day today, after all." He smiled at her, too kindly, and placed a box he had been carrying down near the bloodied table. Eddie turned to face her, expecting a reply, then followed her gaze to the buzz saw.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about _that."_ He said, wagging his finger at her playfully. "That was for all the other _whores _who weren't in the body they were supposed to be. I tried to help them, but they were too weak. Not like you Darling, you're _different._"

"Please don't kill me." Clair begged, gripping onto the cage. "I don't know what you want – do you want to get out of here? Maybe I can help."

Eddie stared at her now, his expression one of concern and confusion. He advanced towards the cage to grip it, which in turn caused Clair to back up as far as possible.

"Kill you? Oh Clair, I don't want to hurt you. I just want to _love _you. To take care of you – isn't that what you want Darling?"

Clair's eyes widened – _he knew her name. _In response to her expression, Eddie pushed himself away from the cage and turned back towards the box he'd brought in with him. He knelt down in front of it, picking up objects that Clair wasn't able to see with him in the way.

"A man down in the sewing room keeps calling your name out, dear." Eddie said coolly, his voice sounding much to calm. "Did you fuck him, you slut?"

He shifted to look at her now, his body ridged. Clair stood there for a moment, not entirely sure of what was going on.

"What? No – no I didn't sleep with Waylon! He was just-"

"DON'T YOU LIE TO ME, YOU FLITHY WHORE!" He boomed, throwing a pair of scissors he'd gotten from the box to the ground. Clair felt her body go numb and out of instinct threw her arms up to cover her face, even though he wasn't in the cage with her.

"I'm sorry!" She cried. "I didn't do anything with him! I promise! I won't speak to him ever again – just don't…" Clair let out a shaky breath, her brows furrowing when she caught herself regressing. _This wasn't Mark,_ but he might as fucking well have been. She turned her attention back to Eddie, who seemed satisfied with her answer.

"Good." He replied, his smile returning. "Now, I have a surprise for you Darling!"

Eddie walked over to her cage and pulled a key from a pocket in his vest – she'd have to remember that. He opened the door and placed the key back in the pocket before indicating to a large object covered by a sheet. Clair glanced around the room, hesitant, then looked over at Eddie for permission to move. Eddie looked down at her in exasperation before gripping both of her shoulders and leading her to stand in front of it.

Was a dead person under there? No, there would have been more blood. She looked at him again for some kind cue, but all she received was a smile.

"Get ready!" He said, gipping the sheet with one hand. "Ta-da!"

It was a wedding dress. A beautiful one actually.

The frown on Clair's face, which had seemed perpetual since the moment she'd arrived at the Asylum, deepened. Did he want them to get _married? _Was he fucking _serious? _Of course he was – he was insane. Clair now remembered the file she'd read about him, and how desperately he'd tried to convince his therapists that he'd lived a normal, traditional life. That he hadn't been abused. She knew that feeling, too. The engine Waylon had mentioned must have set him off into this fantasy state, and he lashed out whenever it was broken.

Clair noticed Eddie's face dim as he looked at her, worried.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

"Oh no I love it!" She replied, giving him a fake smile. She'd perfected that smile – the one that said everything was wonderful. "I was just in awe is all – you did a beautiful job Eddie."

Eddie came to stand next to her, his arms crossed in pride as he looked from Clair to the dress. He then placed his hand over his mouth, and pensive look coming over him.

"It's too big."

He was right, the dress was at least 4 sizes larger than what she'd fit into. Eddie grabbed her shoulders again and placed her next to the mannequin this time.

"Nothing to worry about, I'll just take it in and shorten it – you're a tiny little doll, aren't you dear?"

Doll. That was an appropriate name for what he was treating her like. She was his own personal toy to dress up. She felt him lift up her arms then something tight go around her waist – it was a measuring tape. As he checked the number, Clair could see he had a pencil sticking out of his mouth and a tiny scrap of paper in his other hand. He pulled the measuring tap away and scribbled on the paper. This might have been cute if she wasn't so sure he was going to try and kill her at some point.

The tape went around her breasts this time, and he lingered on that measurement a little longer than needed. Eddie leaned down to check her size, his face much too close to her neck.

"On the small side here as well, Darling." He said, his voice much lower than she was used too. "Not to sound _vulgar, _but I rather like you petite. It makes you look delicate. _Wholesome_."

Clair felt the tape drop and he placed one of his large hands on her tiny hip. She stood completely still, her arms up in the position he'd put them in. Eddie's hand started to travel, slowly, up her side. She could hear him breathing through his nose behind her. His face was still close to her neck, giving off an uncomfortable heat. As his hand inched towards her chest, he suddenly pulled away.

Eddie swallowed loudly and brushed back a few loose strands of hair that had fallen out of place. He turned away from her, writing the last measurement down on the paper before placing next to the buzz saw.

"That shouldn't take too much time to fix." Eddie said, his breathing starting to become steady. "But you're simply a mess Darling. Though I'm not much cleaner – I think a shower is in order. Want to look our best for this special day, don't we? "

Clair felt the blood drain from her face, and only now did she let her arms go down to her sides. Eddie gripped her arm tightly and started to lead her down one of the halls. She could try and run – but he'd catch her. He'd be mad as hell too. The pair passed by some living quarters and Eddie stopped at one of the doors. He peered inside, as if to check if someone was hiding, before pulling Clair in with him. As Eddie walked over to a small dresser he left Clair standing in the middle of the room. She glanced around uneasily, her feet glued to the floor. She wasn't planning on moving at all, until she noticed some drawings pinned above an old wooden desk. Clair walked over, carefully, to get a better look.

Wedding dresses. Lots of them. This must have been his room before the Asylum had gone to hell. The quarters was kept neat, books lined up evenly on the edge of the desk, and the bed was even made. She felt him behind her now, and she looked over to see Eddie peering at his drawings.

"I got some towels." He said, his eyes not leaving the art. "Shall we?"

Eddie, not waiting for her to respond, pulled her along out of the room. They soon arrived at the bathrooms, but he didn't go into either the men's or women's right away. He glanced between the two, unsure, as he kept a painful grip on Clair. Did he plan on going into the same bathroom with her? The same _shower? _Her body started to get cold – she could handle a lot, but not this.

Then it hit her. His vest – he'd have to take it off if he wanted to shower, and that's where the key was. He didn't have to be in the same shower, the same room would be enough for her to get at his clothes.

"I'm sure," She began, looking up at him with a reassuring smile, "That no one will mind if you come into the women's room with me. It is our wedding day after all. They'll understand."

Eddie didn't respond and just continued to look between the two options. Finally, he pulled her into the women's room. He led her down to the furthest shower and stopped, now letting go of her arm. He wanted to come in with her, didn't he? Clair shut her eyes and let out a long breath before reaching into the shower and turning it on. When she turned back to face him, she was surprised to find him not there. She caught a glimpse of him slipping behind the current of the shower next to hers, and Clair couldn't help but let out a relieved laugh.

She hastily peeled off her clothes and hung them over the shower curtain bar. A rush of pleasure shot through her body when the hot water hit her, a gasp of happiness leaving her mouth. Never in her life had she appreciated a shower so much. Clair knew she wouldn't be able to enjoy it for long: she needed to get the key. She pushed her wet hair back and poked her head out of the shower. He had started humming now. It sounded like the same song he'd been singing earlier. He too had placed his clothing over the top of the metal curtain bar, and it was fortunate that his vest was closest to her stall.

Clair stood on her tip toes, her arm reaching out in hopes of slipping her fingers into the pocket. She jolted in shock when Eddie's hand shot out of the shower and grabbed her wrist. Did he know what she was trying to do? Clair was about to try and claw her arm free in panic when he started to speak.

"I know you're just as _eager _as I am to consummate our love." He said, his thumb now gently rubbing her hand. "But you need to wait till after we're married, you little minx. Then, we won't need to use separate showers."

Eddie let her go and Clair slowly inched back into her stall. She pressed her back against the wet tile wall and slid to the floor. She didn't even realize she was crying at first, but as she heard his shower stop and him pull his clothes from the pole, she started to sob.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone! Thanks for being so kind with the reviews! I love hearing from you all, really. It seriously makes my day! Doodles on tumblr :)**

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Eddie was _kind _enough to let her change into her patient jumpsuit in the shower stall. He said it wasn't _proper _for her _'soon to be husband'_ to see her naked before their wedding night. The thought had made Clair shiver – she was sure Waylon would come and find her or she'd find a way to escape before that happened.

Now, though, she sat on a dirty little mattress and watched her captor tailor a wedding dress. He'd been at it for a while now and had, surprisingly, been silent. She assumed it was because he was so focused on his work. The man clearly had passion. Clair's eyes landed on a long, thin piece of fabric on the floor right outside her cage. She knelt down to pick it up, to tie her hair up with it, and her movement drew Eddie's attention.

"NO!" He boomed, his voice sounding more panicked than anything. Clair's body went still and she dropped the fabric, letting her mop of curly dark blond hair fall to her shoulders. Eddie relaxed and adjusted his vest before stepping over to the cage. Clair instinctively shrank back, but he motioned for her to come closer. She reluctantly did as she was told.

"I didn't mean to startle you Darling." Eddie said as he opened the door. "It's just – I like your hair down. It looks more feminine, it looks more like…"

He trailed off and reached a hand out towards her face. Clair flinched, assuming he was going to hit her, but was surprised to find him playing with a lock of her hair. She watched as he stroked it absentmindedly between his pointer finger and thumb.

"She had hair like yours, you know." He said softly. "Hers was just darker – like mine."

Eddie pulled away from her now, his expression shifting suddenly to one of anger and shut the door in Clair's face. "She was a fucking _whore." _He spat. Eddie walked back over to the wedding dress and picked the needle he had been using out of a pin cushion.

"I like it better on you, darling. You're not like her – not an ungrateful, abandoning, slut." He seemed to become lucid for a moment, his brow furrowed as if he were remembering. His clarity didn't last long and his crooked, large grin returned to his face.

"Unfortunately, sweetheart, my parents won't be attending the wedding. My mother is off visiting distant family and my Father and Uncle are on a long hunting trip – can't pull them away from that." Eddie turned to Clair, "and your parents my love? Will they be coming?"

_Her _parents? She paused for a moment, only now realizing how long it had been since she thought of them. _Years. It had been years. _

"Um, no. They won't be coming. They live so far away – and they can't afford the plane ride."

"Such a pity." He replied as he continued to work. "They're going to miss how absolutely _stunning _you're going to look in this dress."

He stepped back from the mannequin to admire his work, then moved to look at her with his eyebrows raised, obviously pleased with himself. Eddie stepped over to her cage and unlocked it, leading her out towards the dress with one large hand placed on the small of her back. She was about to ask if she could go bring the dress to another room to try it on when she felt him start to unbutton her jumpsuit.

"I-I thought you didn't want to see me naked till after the wedding!" She pointed out hastily.

"You're not going to be completely naked Darling, don't be so embarrassed." Eddie said softly while he took his time pulling the outfit off her arms. Clair stepped out of it and shivered when his rough hands were placed on either side of her hips. He trailed them up to her green undershirt and lifted it up and over her arms.

Eddie lingered behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. Clair felt them creep up to her neck and her eyes went wide when his fingers curled around her throat. He didn't grip her hard, but tight enough that she felt panic start to rise in her.

"You're just so _small." _He said more to himself then to Clair. "My petite soon to be wife – how easily I could snap you in half."

A rush of air left her lungs when he finally let her go. She stood there, shivering, as he removed the dress from the mannequin.

"I apologies for getting a little _vulgar_ my dear." He said while putting the dress over her head. "Don't worry though, after the wedding, once we're married, once we're able to start our _family_, I'll be a different man. I promise."

Eddie stepped away from her after buttoning up the back and asked her to turn and face him. She did as she was told. The dress was still a little big in some areas, but it fit her well overall.

"Breathtaking." He said, walking over and placing a hand on her cheek. "You're so much more beautiful then all those other whores, Darling."

Eddie took long strides down the hall as they made their way to where she could only assume he wanted them to get married. He seemed frazzled, rushed, as if this processes had taken much longer then he had expected. As they turned a corner Eddie stopped fast and his grip on Clair's arm tightened, probably leaving bruises. There was a patient in the corner, crying, just several feet down the hall in front of them.

"As both our _folks _won't be showing up – we should invite some guests my love."

Eddie let go of Clair and advanced towards the sobbing patient while pulling his knife from the back of his belt. _Just let him do it _she told herself. Maybe he was just going to bring him with them? But then the knife wouldn't really be needed. The thought made her sick, this man looked just as terrified as she was.

Clair lost all resolve on letting Eddie butcher the crying patient when he started to beg for his life.

"Wait!" She called out, running over to him and placing her hand on the arm holding the knife. Eddie looked over at her, confused and angry.

"I want to have a private wedding." She said, rubbing her fingers on the exposed skin between his glove and shirt sleeve. "It's more intimate that way – more _romantic. _Don't you think?"

Eddie regarded her for a moment, his expression one of irritation.

"D-don't you want me to be happy? On such a special day?" Clair licked her lips as her eyes darted over his face. Had she gone too far? Eddie seemed to relax and a condescending smile formed on his lips.

"Such a needy little girl you are Darling. But a happy wife makes a happy home." Eddie said in a sing-song voice. His smile immediately wilted when he looked back down at the patient, who had apparently been staring at Clair. Eddie gave him a quick head motion and the man bolted away from them and disappeared into the darkness.

The wedding chapel he brought her to was sparingly large. Clair's eyes followed the line of white chairs till they stopped at the altar. There was a man tied to it – rope wrapping around his body several times allowing only his hands to stick out. She was about to walk down the aisle to him, when Eddie stepped in front of her.

"Now you stay here sweetheart." He said affectionately. "I'll tell you when to walk down." Eddie turned on his heel and walked towards the altar. It was only now that Clair noticed the obscene amounts of blood that paved the way to where Eddie and the patient were standing. Some of the blood had seemed to have already dried, but the majority was still wet and fresh. _She wasn't wearing shoes. _

Clair heard Eddie call to her and her head snapped up in response. She looked straight ahead and struggled to smile as she walked down the blood covered carpet. _Why the hell was there blood here? Had he done this before? _Her head was swimming but Clair still managed to grin at him when she finally reached her groom.

The patient was holding a slip of paper, which she guessed Eddie had handed to him, and started to read. It was the very basics of a ceremony and it wasn't long before it came to the part she had been dreading.

"Do you," the patient said, "Eddie Gluskin take-"He paused. The patient looked confused and tried to lean over and whisper to Eddie.

"You left this part blank." He said in a hushed voice.

The two looked over at Clair expectantly and she was momentarily stunned by how unreal the situation was. He put _blank spaces_ in the instructions. This was not his first time here.

"Clair Johnson…" She said quietly, and Eddie's smile widened. He looked back at the patient and the man continued to read.

"Take Clair Johnson to be your lawfully wedded wife."

"I do. With all my heart dear." Eddie said sweetly, giving her small hands a tight squeeze.

"And do you, Clair Johnson, take Eddie Gluskin as your lawfully wedded Husband?"

Clair paused for only a moment, her voice not seeming work. She felt the grip of Eddie's hands tighten around her own threateningly.

"Of course I do!" Clair basically yelled. She threw on her fake smile and Eddie loosened his hold.

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife – you may kiss the bride." The patient grinned at the two of them and clapped his hands together in celebration.

Clair's eyes widened into full circles when she saw Eddie step closer to her. He placed his hand on her back and brought her snug to his chest. The shower had washed away all the blood that had covered his face, but the allergic sores and blood eyes still remained. He didn't necessarily look unattractive, but he was horrifying. Clair felt his hand gently grip her chin and lift it up, his thumb brushing against her lips. Eddie leaned in and placed his rough mouth on her soft one.

He held the kiss longer then what was normally accustomed at a wedding, and when he finally did pull back he didn't move far. His lips hovered over hers and his hand kept her face firmly in place.

"It's been quite some time," He said, his voice holding a hint of clarity, "since I've kissed a woman."

Eddie straightened his back and gave her a charming smile, the veil of his fantasy falling back into place. He scooped her up in his arms and started to carry her down the aisle to where they'd entered before. They didn't get far before a variant tackled them both to the ground. Clair thought she recognized the man as the patient she'd helped before, but she couldn't tell. Eddie was wrestling the man on the ground and shouting out obscenities.

This was her chance. Clair scrambled to her feet and dashed down a conjoining hallway. She hiked the dress up to her knees and continued darting around corners till she came to a pair of large doors. Clair pushed through and immediately tripped. She fell forward onto a web and felt her body send reverberations across the rope covered floor – it looked like some sort of pulley system. As soon as she started to push herself up Clair felt a sprinkling of – what she hoped was water- dapple her face and exposed arms.

She willed herself to look over at her skin and her worst fear was realized – blood. She was covered in drops of blood. Clair's eyes shot up to the ceiling and she instantly turned her head to try and vomit, but there was nothing to come up. There were bodies hanging from the beams above, their genitals sliced off and fake breasted sewn onto their bodies. Eddie had done this – she just knew. This is what the saw in his work shop was for. Why he was so surprised to see an _actual _woman here in the asylum.

Clair heard the door creak open and she turned her head to see the broad shouldered silhouette of a man. _Eddie. _He must have killed the patient. He walked into the room slowly, his whole body surrounded in an aura of rage.

"I see you've found my _whores." _He said while lifting his hand and indicating to the ceiling. "I thought you were different _Darling._ That you weren't going to leave me!"

"No!" She yelled out, her legs shaky as she tried to stand. "No, no. You're mistaken. I was scared of the man who attacked you – I thought he would hurt me." Clair was gasping, her body shaking violently as she tried to ignore the 40 odd bodies dripping all around her.

Eddie stood in silence. She wasn't sure if he believed her or not, but his expression did seem to relax – but not by much.

"Let's get you out of that dress now my dear." His voice still rough and angry. "Wouldn't want you to sully it anymore then you already have."


	6. Chapter 6

**OK! So, there is sex in this chapter. Explicit sex! You've been warned! XD **

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Eddie led Clair to his work shop, his hand gripping the back of her head tightly so she couldn't get away. She was panicking. The reason he'd seemed so flustered, so _rushed, _was because he was eager to _hang her from a ceiling. _Clair imagined that her dress must've gotten serious usage –there had been so many bodies in the gymnasium. God, how had he even killed that many in the several hours since the patient breakout? The wedding dress must have been sewn beforehand. Clair guessed that's what the drawings in his room were about.

Clair's body shook when he slammed her into the side of her cage. He started to unbutton her wedding dress, peeling it off her body so quickly that it caught onto the clasp of her bar. Eddie flung the bra to the ground once the dress was off her body and in his hands. The sound of his disapproving tsk's was all Clair could hear. Was he displeased with her body? Or the dress?

"Look at all this _blood." _He said, his voice low and angry. The dress, he was talking about the dress. It was like he wasn't even aware she was standing inches away from him in her underwear. _Only _her underwear. The moment he turned and walked away from her was when Clair actually felt like she was able to breath. She didn't want to turn away from the cage so she stayed put, her arms shielding her exposed chest.

It took a moment, but Clair willed herself to peer over her shoulder in his direction. Eddie was busy putting the dress back on the mannequin, muttering to himself about something. Probably about how dirty the wedding dress was now. Clair had to do something, or he was going to kill her. She pictured herself naked, hanging in that room. Tears welled up in her eyes and her stomach clenched at the image.

"E-Eddie." She choked out, still unable to face him fully. "Please, we should talk. I didn't run away from _you, _I was running from the other man. I promise, I would never run from you." Clair expected she didn't sound very convincing, her words muffled by her sobbing. But she had to make him believe her, she had to stay alive just a little longer. Waylon would come find her – they'd made a promise. It had been hours, but Clair hoped beyond hope that he hadn't given up.

"Now hush, no need to cry." Eddie said. But he wasn't speaking in his usual charming voice. It was cold, detached. When he turned to her his face mimicked the new tone. There was no grin, no raised eyebrows, just an empty stare. She wasn't his Darling right now. It scared her more than any look he'd given her so far. She'd take the fake affection over this any day.

Eddie advanced towards her and Clair pulled herself closer to the cage, her fingers gripping onto the metal wires. Clair felt him He pet her on the head, like he was comforting a dog.

"Now don't fuss." He whispered, gripping her arms to pry her from the cage. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be, you little whore. You'll hang like the rest of them."

"_Please." _She begged. "Please don't kill me! You promised – promised you'd be a _better man." _

Clair felt his grip loosen slightly. He must have remembered saying that, but how many other people had he made that promise to? Didn't matter. It made him pause, so she continued. Clair finally turned to face him, her arms slack and shaking at her sides.

"You still have time to be a better man." She said, her voice quivering. "We haven't _consummated _our love yet, Eddie. I'm not _yours_ yet. We still have time. Give me a chance to be a better wife." The words made her sick. The thought of him touching her, _caressing _her caused Clair's skin to prickle. But from the look he was giving her, Clair thought it might not be something she'd have to worry about.

His face remained placid. Clair couldn't tell if anything she'd said actually got through to him. The man was so far gone, so _dangerous_. As the silence continued, Clair felt the tears start to come back. Live, she needed to live. With unsteady footing she moved towards him, her hands reaching out to grip his dirty vest. Eddie seemed taken back, but he allowed her to touch him.

"_I love you." _She lied. How many times had she said that to Mark? She'd convinced herself that the words would be true someday. That he'd change and she could tell him that without feeling guilty. "_Please, let me love you." _

He swallowed above her audibly, and she pulled herself closer to his chest. She guessed none of the hanging men had given him this option. He seemed apprehensive, and gently placed his hands on her bare shoulders.

"I love you too, Darling." He soothed. The tension in her body released at his words. _Darling. _She was his _Darling _again. She was going to live a little bit longer. "I'll make you whole, sweetheart. Fill that emptiness inside you. _Make you mine." _Eddie was leaning near her head now, his mouth uncomfortably close to her ear.

He led her inside the cage and guided her down onto the mattress. Clair sat there, shivering, while he walked away from her. What was he doing? It may have been awhile since she'd had sex, but it normally didn't involve the man walking away from the bed. Clair watched as he knelt down and rummaged through one of the many boxes in the room. A rope. He pulled out a long, thin rope that looked like it was covered in patches of blood.

God, had he lied to her, like she had to him? Did he plan on tying her up and killing her? As he entered the cage Clair scooted back on the mattress until her back met with the wire fence.

"I don't want you _touching _me." He said, his tone surprisingly nervous. "Not till I want you to."

All Clair could do was nod. Eddie placed his knee on the mattress and it bent under his weight. He gripped her wrists and brought them above her head, tying them to the cage. It was a tight, but not _too_ tight, she suspected he knew how to tie a person up. Clair gave the restrains and experimental tug, and her stomach dropped at how secure they were. If he freaked out during this, if she said something he didn't like, there was nowhere to go, no way to fight back. She was completely trapped.

Eddie held onto the fence above her head and loomed over her, examining his handy work, letting his eyes travel away from her arms to the rest of her body. She felt _so exposed. Vulnerable. _Clair could see the hilt of his knife poking out of his belt and it made the whole situation that much worse. Eddie's hand gripped onto her chin and tipped her head up. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth over hers, a low, satisfied moan resonating in his throat. It was hard to breath, at first, but she was able to gasp whenever he tipped his head from one side to the other. Slowly, the hand gripping her chin moved up to her lips. He curled his thumb over her mouth, forcing it open, giving him more access.

Her toes curled when he bit her lip, her legs clenching together tightly at the surprising tenderness of the situation. It was still rough, still forceful, but it wasn't what she thought it would be. Clair felt his hand leave her face, and felt him firmly cup her crotch instead. A small cry escaped her lips, muffled by Eddie's mouth, and he pressed his hand against her even harder.

"Don't be so loud, Darling." He scolded while the hand that had been gripping the wire fence now knotted into her hair, forcing her to look at him. "Your moans are _mine._ Your cries are _mine_. I won't have any of these other men hear you like this. Do you understand?"

Her answer was a small squeak, and he grinned, responding to her good behavior by rubbing the outside of her underwear. With her head still forcibly looking up from the grip Eddie had on her hair, he leaned in and pressed his lips on her exposed neck.

The man was _huge. _At least in comparison to herself. His body completely encompassed her when he moved to the other side of her neck, his fingers moving faster and pressing harder out of her line of sight. She did her best to keep herself quiet, her teeth digging into her bottom lip until she thought she tasted blood. Relief swept over her body when he removed his hand from her groin. A shaky breath of air left her lungs. She felt him slowly slip her panties down her legs, and his rough hand returned to business. The sensation was completely different, and she thanked the heaven's they'd taken a shower just hours before. Blood covered hands were not something she wanted anywhere near her vagina.

He teased the outside lips with light touches. Eddie pulled away from her neck and looked down at what he was doing, now allowing Clair to see past the blockade of his body.

"I think you need a little more attention, Darling." His voice coming out much lower than normal. Eddie pulled himself away from her and moved off the mattress. Carefully, he slipped her underwear the rest of the way off her legs, folding and placing them delicately on one of the boxes. Clair wasn't exactly sure what he was insinuating, but it became blindingly clear when he got to his knees in front of her and spread her legs.

She had honestly expected him not be a very _giving _sexual partner. Going down on her was the last thing she thought he'd do – she'd never gotten it before. Never crossed her mind with Mark. Their sex had comprised of her face down in a mattress waiting for it to be over. Clair's thoughts were jarred when she noticed his head leaning in between her legs. He shot her a hard glare and she tensed.

"Remember what I told you dear, and stay _quiet_." Eddie said while kissing her inner thigh. "You have to _obey _your husband and be an obedient little wife. I'm giving you a chance to redeem yourself here, Darling."

His motives became very clear then. He _wanted _her to make a mistake. To disobey him so he'd have an excuse to do whatever he liked to her, which probably involved hanging her. Clair's breath hitched in her throat when she felt his mouth finally make contact with the lips of her vagina. Eddie moved his hands and spread her open, eliciting another suppressed squeak of a moan. She didn't want to watch. She _couldn't _watch. Clair shut her eyes tightly and turned her head away, her body starting to quiver when something warm entered her.

Her back arched and she tried to move one of her hands to cover her mouth, but she was tightly restrained. _Shit. _He was going so slowly, each action deliberate. Clair opened her eyes to thin slits and looked down, surprised to see him staring at her. Completely focused. Eddie pulled away from her carefully – a long string of saliva coming away with his mouth. He stood, looking over her flushed body, before starting to remove his own clothes. Each article taken off he took the time to carefully fold. Clair wasn't sure if this was compulsive behavior learned from childhood, or just another way to exert power over her. Demonstrate how he could take his sweet time with whatever he liked

It wasn't long before he got to his pants, and his hands lingered around the button. He licked his lips, his brow furrowed as he finally gripped the waist and undid the button, pulling himself out but leaving his pants on. Everything about this man was on the _larger _side, so she wasn't shocked by what was between his legs. Eddie crawled forward onto the bed and Clair tried to back away from him the best she could.

"Don't be nervous." He said softly, cupping her cheek in one of his hands. "I'll go slow, Darling. It will only _hurt _for a little while."

His hands gripped her thighs and pushed her on the cage wall. Clair's legs were lifted up until her ankles were resting on his shoulders, and his body bent forward until his forehead pressed against hers. She braced herself, but it wasn't enough. A heavy ache trailed up her legs and stomach when he slid inside. Clair was at odds with herself. Having sex with Gluskin was to survive. To live long enough for Waylon to come and find her, or for her to find a way out herself. Her body, on the other hand, cared very little about the why in this situation.

Once his hips pressed firmly against hers, Eddie let out a shaky breath. Clair could feel him shivering around her and wondered how long it'd been for him.

"_Oh Clair." _He breathed, slowly starting to pull himself out of her. It was the first time she could recall him actually using her name. "You're a sin, Darling."

She felt herself tighten at his words. Clair's elbows bent in front of her to cover her face. This was awful. She hated how _good _it felt. To feel something like this, after all the horrible things she endured throughout the asylum, was refreshing. Fake or not.

Eddie started to pick up the pace, his grip on her legs tightening as he lost himself. Clair could hear him cursing under his breath, his body slapping against her own. She'd been doing so well, not crying out, but his new pace made it impossible. A high pitched moan passed her lips, and she could feel him still inside of her. Slowly, Eddie lifted his head. His expression was _carnal, angry, _but it had a hint of satisfaction behind it.

"Listen to you, you little _slut." _He hissed, moving a hand up to grip her chin. Eddie pulled her face closer and pressed his mouth roughly over her own. Clair pulled back a bit, confused by his sudden change of tone. "Say it." Eddie growled as his pace picked up again. "Say what you are _Darling. _Tell me what a _whore _you are."

Clair didn't answer him. She was much too focused on pain his grip was causing her legs, and the new, rough rhythm he'd gotten into. The pain now shot to her scalp when he gripped a fistful of her hair. Eddie let her legs drop around his hips and he pushed closer to her, their bodies forced together.

"_Say it." _He demanded. Eddie had stopped moving, but was still pressed deep inside her.

"I-I'm a _whore." _Clair whispered out.

"And who do you belong to, Darling? Who did you promise to _love_ and_ obey_?" His voice was starting to quiver now. He was enjoying this. Enjoying demeaning her.

"You." She answered, louder this time. "I l-love you!"

Clair's heart raced when his hands left her body and shot up to the ropes binding her wrists. He skillfully undid them, then immediately pushed her down on the mattress, pining her hands next to her head. Eddie got back into his quick, rough rhythm and snarled above her. The height difference was such that in this position, Clair was staring straight ahead at his chest. When she turn her head up, her view was of his throat, and under his chin. She watched him gasp and pant, and it made her insides tighten in a way she wished they wouldn't.

"Such a _vulgar _girl. Wanting everyone to hear your moans. To hear what I'm _doing to you._"

He released her hands and gripped onto the edge of metal bed frame, the new brace allowing him to put more power behind his thrusts. Clair, with her hands now free, wasn't sure what to do with them. She wanted to touch his chest, wrap her arms around his neck, but she was afraid of what he might do. As his body got closer to her own, she couldn't help it. Clair's hands went up and pressed flat on his chest, half trying to hold him back, half enjoying the ability to finally touch the man that was ravishing her. God, if this were anywhere else, and he wasn't the monster he was, she wouldn't feel so disgusted enjoying this.

Eddie's hands released the bed and wrapped firmly around Clair's body. She could feel him start to tense, and knew what was coming. Her own body was getting ready to give as well – and her legs began to go numb in anticipation. Clair worried, fleetingly, about the climax. She suspected Eddie wasn't the type of man to 'pull out.' But the thought passed quickly, replaced by his mouth next to her ear, his charming voice whispering the most demeaning, awful things.

Clair was trapped under his weight, his entire body was pinning her to the bed as he neared his finish. Part of her want to try and claw herself away, have him stop before she was able to find release. But there was nothing she could do. Eddie stilled inside her, letting out a roar of a moan, and Clair gasped at the sudden feeling of warmth in her body. The sensation brought Clair to her own orgasm, and her legs went slack over his hips.

Neither of them attempted to move right away, and Clair vaguely noticed his heavy, relaxed breathing next to her head. Eddie finally peeled himself off of her and held himself above Clair before pushing himself up and away on the bed, resting his back on the cage wall. Clair couldn't look at him, shame and guilt now filling the space the afterglow had occupied moments earlier. Her eyes fell on his vest, which was just inches away from her on the bed, and her body went numb. The key. He kept it in there. The man looked exhausted, and if he decided to sleep, Clair could get out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Doodles for this chapter (and all the other chapters) can be found on tumblr! :) (amarvelfangirl)**

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Her fingers slipped into the pocket of his vest and her body went cold. _It wasn't there. _Where the hell did he put it? Clair felt herself start to panic. Maybe his white shirt? Did it have pockets? He could have moved it there. She hastily pushed his vest out of the way and went for his shirt, but she wasn't able to check it.

"Don't get dressed yet."

She flinched when his large hands wrapped around her waist, hoisting her off the mattress and over to his lap. Gone. Any chance she had of getting that key, _getting out of this horrifying hell hole, _was gone. She knew what his end game was: killing her. Stringing her up in the gymnasium. It was a cycle, almost a ritual.

Eddie placed her between his legs and she could feel that he'd buttoned his pants up. Good, Clair didn't want any more reminders of what she'd just done. She'd convinced herself it was just going to be sex. That it wouldn't matter – it was to survive. But it was so much worse. It felt _good. _Nothing with this man should have ever made her feel good. The hands that had touched and caressed her were responsible for so many horrible, brutal things.

Said hands now made their way to her stomach. Clair tried to move away, pushing herself flush against his chest in the process, but there wasn't anywhere to go. Eddie grazed his fingers over her navel before firmly placing his hand on her lower belly.

"I told you, didn't I?" He said, bending down so his mouth was next to her ear. "I told you I could fill you up. _Make you whole." _

Clair felt her stomach turn with disgust. Just thinking about playing so perfectly into his fantasy made her ill. Waylon said he'd gone into the engine. How many times? Enough to make him sterile, maybe? God, she hopped so. She wasn't taking anything, there was never any need to. She'd been in an all-women's asylum for the past year.

Her body was like a rag doll as Eddie pulled her with him down onto the mattress. He positioned her back snug against his chest and wrapped his arms around her body. It wasn't a _loving _embrace. His arms felt like restraints. She could hardly move or breathe.

Despite who was holding her and the atrocities she'd seen in the last several hours, Clair's eyes felt heavy. He was warm, and she was so tired. Clair's resolve to stay awake left her when Eddie shifted and pulled his white shirt over the two of them. It was large enough to cover the majority of her body, but only part of his, but she figured that must have been the point.

"I don't want some vile deviant seeing you so exposed." Eddie spoke, his face now nestled near that back of her head. "Get some rest now, you've had quite an exhausting day, Darling."

When she woke up, Eddie was gone. It was hard to tell how long she'd been asleep, even how long she'd actually been _in _the asylum, but she guessed an hour or so. Her legs ached as she stepped off the mattress, a combination of rutting and sprinting for her life. Clair gathered her green shirt from the floor and slipped it on. After getting her underwear situated Clair noticed her patient jumpsuit was missing. Had he taken it with him? Why?

It was stupid for her to even hope, but she tried the cage door. Locked. Gluskin might be a madman, but he wasn't stupid.

"This one is a women." A voice from the right of her said. Clair whipped around and saw two large, naked men staring at her. It was hard to see in the dim light, but they looked almost identical. Twins, maybe? She thought of walking closer to them, but noticed one was holding a knife.

"You are right, she is." The other answered.

"Should we tell Father Martin?"

"Can you help me?" She asked. The two glanced at one another, than back at Clair. "Please if he, if Gluskin, comes back, he'll kill me. I just want to get out of here."

"I don't believe we should. She's already dead."

"Agreed. The Groom has her. She'll hang soon."

"Perhaps we should kill her? Quick. Painless."

"Father would think it humane."

"No!" Clair protested. "No – I'm not dead yet. Please. Just help me get out. No Father would condone killing someone – not a defenseless women. _Please." _

The one holding the knife turned to his brother and the two spoke softly for a moment. Everyone in the Asylum was so _tall. _These two only seemed a few inches shorter than Eddie. The unarmed brother walked closer to the cage and stood silent for a moment.

"We will take you to Father Martin – he will decide what to do with you."

It was something, at least. She'd be away from Eddie and that was a blessing in itself. The brother with the knife walked over to the door of her cage and gave it a good shake.

"Locked." He said.

"A complication." The second one walked over to stand next to him.

"Darling?"

All three heads turned to the entrance of the workshop, towards where Eddie now stood. He looked momentarily baffled until he noticed the knife one of the twins was holding. The rage that emanated from his body was petrifying, and Clair physically shrunk back from the cage wall. He'd been holding her jumpsuit in his hands but he let it drop to the floor, his arm moving to slip the knife from his belt.

The twins glanced at each other, silently debating if a fight was worth it. Eddie took a step toward them first, his grip on the knife so tight that the fabric on his fingerless gloves groaned from the stress. The two groups didn't break eye contact, and every step Eddie took closer, the twins took one back, heading towards the way they had come. Clair thought they could probably take Gluskin, but they'd walk away with wounds. Wounds that may end up killing them later in a place like this.

"We will inform Father of her presence." One of them finally said. The other simply nodded, and they turned from Eddie. They kept their head's twisted back to look at him as they vanished through the dark entrance they'd come from.

Clair let out a pained sigh and sat down on the mattress. They were going to help her, at least that's how it looked, and now she doubted they'd come back.

"Look at _you." _He hissed, unlocking the cage and walking inside. "You're practically _begging _for it! Letting them see you in your underwear. You're a disgusting _slut. _Just like all the others."

She hastily lifted herself from the mattress to try and console him, but the knife in his hand made her stop. This is what he was waiting for, an excuse. It wasn't her fault that Eddie took her jumpsuit away and left her half naked. He must have taken it on purpose, so she'd be left indecent and he could blame her for it. Clair moved away from him until her back met with the cage. Eddie placed a hand above her head and leaned in, his expression pained.

"You wanted them to _touch you. _Don't lie to me." He spat out, a low growl coming from his throat. All Clair could do was shake her head no, but that wasn't going to be enough for him. She felt the tip of his knife press against her stomach and her eyes shot down, fear boiling inside of her.

"I thought you were different. I thought we could be happy – start a family. But you had to _ruin it you whore." _

"I'm pregnant." Clair said, her eyes not leaving the blade pressed to her abdomen. She heard him utter out a _'what', _confusion and disbelief dripping off the word. She was dead. Eddie didn't believe her. Why would he? She was lying after all – for now at least. It took more than a couple hours to make a statement like that and _not_ be lying. She shut her eyes tightly, tears streaming down her face. She was as ready for death as she was going to be.

But it didn't come. Instead Clair heard the sound of the knife hit the ground and she opened her eyes to see Eddie kneeling in front of her. His eyes were wide and the hint of a grin twitched at the side of his mouth. With steady hands, he reached out and lifted her shirt up to place his palm on her belly.

"You've made me the happiest man on earth, Darling!" He beamed up at her then turned his attention back to her stomach. He stroked her affectionately before standing up brush the tears away from her face. "I'm excited too sweetheart. I'll take _care _of you and our baby. Neither of you will ever go wanting. I promise."

The tears kept coming, no matter how many times he wiped them away. _Thank god he believed her. _He'd looked skeptical at first, the small rational side of his mind knowing full well she was probably lying to him. Fortunately, Eddie seemed so deep in his fantasy that he was able to push those doubts aside. To throw himself head first into something he so desperately craved to be true.

He suddenly froze, looking exceedingly troubled. "Oh Eddie, you dope!" He laughed and playfully hit his head with the palm of his hand. "I don't have anything ready! This place isn't set up for a child!" He hurried out of the cage to pick up Clair's jumpsuit and bring it over to her. She glanced down at her outfit and was surprised to see the rip in the pant leg had been sewn.

"I'll hurry back, just stay put! Our child is going to be _beautiful_." Eddie gave her a quick peck on the forehead and left the room, humming pleasantly as he did.

He'd left the cage door open.


	8. Chapter 8

Clair hesitated for a moment. Was he testing her? Waiting just outside the workshop to catch her when she tried to escape? No – he made a mistake. He'd gotten so _excited _that the thought of her running off hadn't even crossed his mind. This was her chance, and she wasn't about to miss it. She quickly slipped into her jumpsuit and picked up a long, sturdy piece of wood from the floor. It wasn't as handy as her pipe, but it would do for now.

Instead of taking the door Eddie had just gone through, she decided to follow the direction she'd seen the Twins leave. Clair would much rather run into them than Gluskin. Navigating the halls without nightvision turned out to be more of a challenge than she thought. Watching Eddie drag her effortlessly around the complex made it seem easy as well. Thinking back, he'd probably just known the vocational building well enough not to let the darkness impede him. It didn't matter – as long as she was walking in the opposite direction he was, she felt safer. Vision or no vision.

She'd been wandering around for what seemed like hours. Popping her head into rooms and whispering out Waylon's name as loudly as she felt comfortable doing. She'd been heading towards where she assumed the exit was, but had to find Waylon before she got there. She needed to try. There was an itching fear in the back of her mind that he'd left without her. That he'd made a break for the exit once Gluskin took her. If he did, she couldn't really blame him. He'd told her about his wife and two boys – he had a family to get back to. This still didn't relieve the sinking feeling of betrayal.

A loud crash came from the room across from her. Clair held her wood pole up defensively. Her first thought was to walk right by it, but after a quick glance around the hall, she realized that this was the only direction she could go in. She was surprised she hadn't run into many patients so far, and the one's she did met didn't seem to acknowledge she was even there. If she could survive Eddie, she could survive any patient. Clair inched towards the dark room, the sounds of someone moving around still apparent. Going in blind was a bad idea. At least out in this hall the windows provided a little light. Clair positioned herself outside of the door and waited, her weapon raised above her head.

It wasn't long before she heard the patient start to walk towards the door. She'd make it quick, one bap over the head and she'd be on her way. It's not like she enjoyed seeking out violence, and if she could go another way she would, but it had to be done. When the man exited the room, Clair pulled back her pole and swung. In mid swing she gasped in horror at who she was attacking. Waylon. Not completely able to stop her momentum, Clair moved lower, smashing the weapon across his stomach. Waylon stumbled back, the air purging from his lungs from the impact.

Waylon groaned, attempting to recover quickly by placing the camera to his face. She heard him curse under his breath then let out an exasperated laugh.

"Good to see you too, Clair," he said, pulling the camera away from his eye. Clair dropped her pole and wrapped her arms around his chest, Waylon returned the hug. "I'm happy to see you made it – I've been looking around this dump for hours."

Clair felt like crying, but she couldn't. Not now – not until they were both out of here could she enjoy the luxury of relief. Their embrace lingered a little longer then Clair pushed herself back, rubbing her nose. The tears had started to come, but she pushed hard to keep them back.

"I'm really happy you're not dead." She said, trying not to laugh at how absurd of a statement that would seem in a normal conversation.

"I'm also very happy I'm not dead." He replied. "Glad you aren't either. I've been making my way to the exit, but I've been popping in and out of every room I've passed to try and find you. When I saw that man drag you off I tried to follow him, but that big guy, the one who kept talking about pigs, somehow found his way into the sewing room. I was hiding in a locker for hours."

The two chuckled and Clair bent down to pick up her pole. "I almost thought you'd left here without me. I wouldn't have blamed you if you did – you have a family to get home to."

"I do need to get back to them." He said while placing the camera in front of his face and motioning for Clair to grip onto his shirt. "But I told you I'd try and look for you. Not that I was much help – you seemed to have gotten away on your own."

Clair paused. She thought about telling him everything. That the man who'd captured her was Eddie, from the file she'd read aloud, and that he'd forced her to 'marry' him in the asylum church. But she didn't want to bring up what had happened after. What she was willing to do to try and get away from him. She felt ashamed just thinking about it – he'd look so _happy _after they'd finished. The fact that she'd provided a monster like him with any type of satisfaction was numbing. It was even more disturbing that she had felt _good_ during it.

Waylon stopped and Clair moved to look around his body. His camera was facing the floor and she could make out the shape of what looked to be a small doll. Waylon bent down and picked it up, turning it over in his hands a few times before turning to Clair and handing it to her. It was one of those Raggedy Ann dolls with the red hair. It looked pretty beat up, or maybe well loved? She assumed it must have belonged to one of the patients here. She felt Waylon start to move again and she gripped onto his shirt, placing the doll in one of her large pockets. Clair wasn't sure why, but she felt like she needed to keep it. It had been important to someone, and leaving on the floor just didn't seem right.

"I wanted to help them," he said, his voice not having it's usually quirk behind it. "I took this job because I thought the work I'd be doing would help the patients. When I saw how horribly they were being treated – I had to do something. I had sent a letter of it to a reporter, but Mr. Blair, the ass who runs this hell-hole, caught me. Hence the patient outfit – they were going to use me for testing."

Clair stayed silent for a while, not really sure how to respond. She couldn't really help feeling animosity towards a lot of the patients, especially Gluskin. But they were sick. They came here for _help. _Help they'd never get now.

Before she was able to tell Waylon she supported what he'd done, the sound of a buzz saw cut through the silence. The cannibal. Waylon and Clair turned to see him charging toward them, his saw whirling in his hand. Waylon pushed her to the side and dropped his camera, catching the cannibal's arms before he could bring the saw down. The patient brought up a leg and kicked Waylon into a nearby room, the same one he'd pushed Clair into. She watched the two struggle as she felt the ground around her for some sort of weapon – anything. The man slammed Waylon into the side of the wall. Clair cringed as she heard his head smack against it. She watched, helpless as Waylon sunk to the floor. Was he unconscious? Dead? They'd only just met up again. He couldn't be dead.

The cannibal turned from Waylon and stared at Clair – he'd been after her.

"I told you," he growled, walking towards her slowly. Clair inched back across the ground until her back met with a wall, her heart pounding against her chest. She escaped from one mad man only to be cut up and eaten by another. "I told you, your meat was _mine." _The patient got on his hands and knees in front of her and crawled till his chest hovered over her legs. She couldn't move – her body felt paralyzed under him. Clair's eyes followed the man's arm as he lifted the buzz saw to her face.

Then he stopped. She heard him choke and saw drops of blood fly from his mouth and onto the front of her shirt. Her gaze followed his to the patient's chest, where a long, thick knife was poking through. The blade quickly withdrew from the man's body and the patient was suddenly pulled off of her and flung to the ground.

Eddie. Oh God he'd found her. Even in the dim light she could tell who it was. He towered over the dying man, his shoulders heaving with rage. In a quick motion Eddie got to his knees and started to stab the cannibal – repeatedly.

"You disgusting fuck!" he bellowed, the front of his white shirt and vest being coated in a thick layer of blood. "You were going to hurt my baby. My _family. They're mine. You can't have them!" _He shakily lifted himself from the floor and stared down at the bloody pulp he'd left behind. It was hard to recognize the patient as being a person. Clair's body froze when Eddie turned his attention to her, the anger in his eyes not dulling for a second.

"You stupid _bitch." _Eddie hissed. "Leaving me. Putting _my baby _in danger? What kind of mother are you?" He crouched over her in the same way the cannibal had done not minutes earlier. Eddie looked completely livid and Clair wasn't sure how she was going to talk her way out of this one. The knife in his hand made an awful noise as he turned it in his hand, the blood squishing and rubbing on his gloves.

"I…I just." Her words weren't coming out right, and Eddie looked far from impressed. _The doll. _Clair couldn't hold back an anxious, relieved smile as she dug through her pocket. The doll, thankfully, looked no worse for the wear from being in her pocket, and she held it out to him. Eddie opened one of his large hands and she placed the tiny toy into his palm. "We didn't have anything for the baby. I didn't want you doing all the work – so I went looking for a toy."

A shaky sigh passed Clair's lips when he moved away from her to sit on the floor, holding the doll close to his face. His anger seemed to instantly melt away and he looked up from the toy to give her an excited smile.

"_Oh, Darling! _Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Eddie said cheerfully as he helped Clair off the ground.

"I'd only just thought to look for toys after you left-"she started, but Eddie cut her off, placing a relatively clean finger over her mouth.

"No, not that sweetheart. Why didn't you tell me we were having a little girl?" He asked, looking away from her to admire the doll again. "Or did you want to surprise me and tell me like this? I don't normally like surprises, but I can make an exception here. I'm so thrilled! We're going to have a little angel, a _princess!" _

He gripped her hand to start dragging her out of the room, but her legs stopped working. Clair had been so scared and she hadn't eaten in almost a day – her body just wasn't having it anymore. Eddie noticed her limbs quiver as she tried to move, and he let out a mocking sigh before lifting her up in his arms.

"Women are so frail," he jeered. "Not to worry though – your husband will take care of you, Darling." As Eddie started to waltz out of the room with her, she turned her head to give Waylon a quick glance. _He looked like he was breathing. Thank god. _He'd been obscured by some debris so Eddie hadn't see him. This was good. He could still make it out – make it back to his family.

Eddie carried her back down the hall she'd originally come from. She felt like her whole escape was for nothing – she was just going to end up back in his workshop. Back in that blood and body filled nightmare.

"Abigail."

Clair looked up at Eddie, whose eyes were turned down to her. He smiled, and repeated the name.

"Abigail – that's what we're going to name her. It was my grandmother's name, she was a wonderful woman! Would always bring pies over every Saturday. Blueberry mostly, but that was because it was my father's favorite. She just couldn't say no to him." He let out a nostalgic chuckle. Clair was pretty sure he was lying, making up another fantasy to try and cover up the horrible things that had happened to him. She wasn't even sure if he even had a grandmother named Abigail – but it didn't matter. She wasn't about to argue with him.

"That sounds like a wonderful name." Clair said.

"Our little Abby is going to be beautiful, my dear." He said, more to himself than to her. Eddie was staring off in front of himself as he continued to speak. "She'll have your curls – but my hair color of course. With perfect, porcelain skin and bright eyes. What do you think Darling – my blue or your gray ones?"

"What?" she asked. It was hard to follow what he was saying. Clair had been trying to memorize the route he'd been taking them – he'd turned a different corner than what would have brought them back to his work shop.

"_Eyes, _sweetheart, please try to keep up. I think she'll have yours. But we'll talk more about that later." Eddie placed her down on her feet in front of an unfamiliar door. "I also have a surprise for you Darling, I'm sure you're going to just love it."


	9. Chapter 9

"Close your eyes, Darling!" Eddie said in a sing-song voice, a smile stretching from ear to ear. Clair did as she was told and shut her eyes. She wasn't sure what kind of 'surprise' he had in mind, but at this point, not a lot would shock her. Clair heard the two large doors in front of her open and Eddie placed a large hand on her back, guiding her inside. She walked carefully, unsure of her footing. Not wanting to trip over anything Clair squinted, but Eddie was quick to notice.

"No peeking!" He scolded and placed a hand over her face. They only took a few more steps before stopping abruptly. He didn't removed his hand right away, and Clair could almost feel the excitement radiating from his body. When he did finally let her see, her eyes adjusted quickly thanks to the dim lighting. Clair took a quick glance at her surroundings and realized she was in some sort of wood shop – he must have brought her back to the vocational block. There were no power tools, at least none she was able to see, only pre-made parts that would require gluing. Things like bird houses.

As her gaze traveled around the room they finally landed on what she assumed to be her surprise. A crib. A well made one at that, considering what he had to work with. The bars were made from different pieces of colored wood, and the bed inside was a cut out part of a mattress. Eddie walked over to the bed and gripped the side of it, beaming down proudly at his work before glancing up at Clair expectantly.

"It looks amazing, Eddie." She said softly, forcing a small smile onto her face. "I'm – I'm sure Abigail will love it."

"Oh, you think so?" He withdrew the doll Clair had given him from his pocket, and placed it down in the crib, grinning. "Just think my dear, our own little angel. She'll grow up so happy and never have to worry about anything. Never have to worry about her parents –"He stopped and cleared his throat. Clair knew what he was referencing. It amazed her how easily he could switch from adamant denial of his childhood atrocities, to swearing never to let his own children go through what happened to him. The file she read on him spoke of this behavior. Eddie was sick before they'd put him into the Engine.

"We'll have a blue house, no, a yellow one. With a large white fence so the dog can be let out in the yard. We won't get one till she's a little older, though. When she can really appreciate it." He said, going off on a tangent. "Her room will be pink, like any good little girl's room, with toys and a night light. A night light is important. No child should have to stay in the dark. That's just cruel. Wrong." Eddie looked at Clair, his expression almost asking something from her, but she wasn't sure what. All she could do was nod and give him an encouraging look. His face hardened and Clair realized her small gesture hadn't been enough for him.

As he walked toward her, his gate stiff, she tried to say something, but all she could do was stutter. When he reached her, Eddie shot his hand out to her neck and pulled her to him, a low growl coming from his throat.

"Don't you even _care?" _He asked, obviously irritated with her lack of contribution to his fantasy.

"Of course I do Eddie!" Clair chocked out. Her tiny hands were wrapped around his wrist, but she didn't attempt to try and pull him away. "I was just thinking – Abby would like blue better than pink. I-I didn't want to interrupt you is all."

He smiled at her and Clair drew in a grateful breath when he let go of her neck. "Blue. I think I have some light blue fabric back in the sewing room. Oh – I'll start on a dress right away!" Eddie moved away from her and back over to the crib, looking down at the doll as if it were his own child.

"I'm so excited." He breathed, his voice coming out shaky. "I'm going to be a father. To finally have a legacy of my own." He stepped away from the bed and approached Clair. She resisted the urge to jerk away from his reaching hands. "She'll be just as beautiful as her mother, I'm sure, Darling."

Eddie placed his hands on both of her shoulders and gave them a firm squeeze. She watched as his eyes scanned her body, the muscles in his neck and face visibly tightening as he did. Was he thinking back to what they'd done? Clair's stomach dropped and she turned her face away from him in disgust. Eddie must have interpreted the action as modesty, and grazed the side of her cheek with his knuckles in an affectionate manner.

Clair's body went ridged when he leaned down and pressed his lips on the side of her face. A shiver went up her spine when his thumbs started to rub her shoulders.

"I know you're already _whole _now." Eddie whispered, his mouth next to her ear. "But, you'd made yourself such a beautiful gift for me before. Even now, it's like a dream being here with you." Slowly, he placed one of his hands under her chin and turned her head back to face him, tipping it up so he could have eye contact.

Panic. That's all Clair was feeling. She'd been sure – _so sure _– that once he was convinced she was pregnant, he wouldn't want this. Wouldn't want to touch her the way he was. Eddie had seemed so cautious about being sexual before, but it appeared that the prior exchange had given him more confidence. Shown him that it didn't have to hurt – and that he could be in control if he wanted.

"Even in these clothes you look like a perfect little present." He breathed, his face getting closer to her own as his other hand moved from her shoulder to her hip. "I'd very much like _to unwrap my gift again, Darling._"

Before she had a chance to protest, to make an excuse involving the baby, his mouth covered hers. Not again. Please not again. Clair's hand's shot up and her fingers dug into his vest. She tried to move away, to stop the kiss before it could turn into something else, but Eddie already had a tight hold on the back of her head. His fingers knotted in her curly hair.

He broke the kiss for only a moment, his lips still hovering over her own. "No need to be shy my dear," he soothed, "We're married. Let me show you how much _I love you_. Just relax."

Love. That wasn't what this was at all. Even if he did believe he loved her, Clair knew better. He was just an exaggerated version of Mark – so obviously a monster that there was no hiding it. Mark had hid it well. The man had seemed perfect to everyone. A husband most women would die for, or at least that's what she'd been told. He'd treated her like a queen in public, lavishing her with sweet remarks and gestures, making himself out to be a man in love.

He didn't love her, though. You didn't do the things _he did to her _if you loved someone. That didn't stop the words he spoke, the words Eddie spoke, from making her feel guilty. Making her want to forgive them. She hated herself for it. The grip she had on his vest loosened and she felt Eddie smile against her mouth, pleased with her obedience.

Then it was over. Clair's body jerked as Eddie was torn away from her, a surprised yelp leaving her lips. He landed in an unconscious heap on the ground and Clair turned her attention to the assailant, ready to run for her life if needed.

_Waylon. _Thank god. He'd found her.

"Was he -" Waylon asked, lowering the wooden plank he must have gotten from inside of the room, "kissing you? Shit, are you alright? He didn't do anything else, did he?" Clair felt shame pool in her belly at his remark, his face covered in disgust as he stared down at Eddie. Waylon looked back at Clair, apparently still expecting an answer.

"Um, no." She lied. Well, half lied. He'd only kissed her this time. "He didn't go any further."

Waylon looked around the room and spotted the crib, an expression of concern coming over his face. She could tell he didn't believe her, and he turned to meet her gaze. There was a long silence, and Clair internally begged Waylon not to ask. All she wanted to do was forget.

"We need to go." Waylon said, reaching to take Clair's hand. She gripped him and gingerly stepped over Eddie's body, a twang of fear going through her. He was going to be so angry with her. God, what if he caught up with them? Woke up and found out where they went? He'd probably kill her this time. Baby or no baby.


	10. Chapter 10

**(Trigger warning! If you are sensitive about the subject of miscarriages, I would suggest proceeding with caution. Only 2 more chapters left after this guys! Stick around, fun's not over yet. :) )**

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All of them. _Ungrateful sluts._ He knew that – he'd _always_ known that. That's why he tried to fix them, to help them, but they never failed to betray his love. _Especially her. _Clair, he'd actually remembered her name, something he rarely bothered with. What had he been thinking? He knew she was just like the others, and his suspicions were confirmed when she tried to leave him after their wedding. She'd run from him, abandoned him, got blood on the dress he'd worked so hard on. That women had _promised_ things to him. Told him she'd be a good wife and that he could be a better man. Lies. He'd been so foolish. So blind. That _whore. _He'd slept with her, made her whole. Now his child was growing inside a vile, deceitful women. Part of him ached at the thought of what they'd done. It had felt so _good. Right__,_even_. _She'd been so sweet, so small and completely at his mercy, practically begging to have his children. Oh, how he wanted to forgive her. But she had left with a man, and Eddie had heard them talking, _whispering. _She wanted to leave him, and there was no way he could forgive that.

Eddie slowly got to his feet, using the wall to brace himself, and let out a groan. He felt pain in his head from where he'd been hit, but that wasn't the pain the elicited the moan. His baby. His beautiful little girl _was inside that bitch. _It was going to be perfect, everything was going to be perfect, and then Clair fucked it up. It wasn't Abigail's fault, no, she was innocent in all of this. Eddie had to save her – but he knew she wasn't ready to come out yet. There was so little he could do. He was so _helpless. _Never – he never wanted to feel this way again.

In a fit of rage he stalked over to one of the shelves holding birdhouses and kicked it over, causing a satisfying crash as they shattered on the floor. Not enough. He turned to the tables and started flip them over, the small items and crafts smashing around him. He was tearing through the room, a constant snarl coming from his mouth, when he reached the crib. Eddie wanted to rip it apart – but he didn't. This was Abigail's. He wasn't going to punish his daughter because of what her mother had done. Eddie clenched his fists, the tension in them running up his arms and causing them to shake.

"Fucking whore!" He bellowed into the empty, disheveled room. "You bitch. You vile little _slut_!"

He was going to find her. Clair wasn't his darling anymore, wasn't his beautiful bride, but she was carrying his child. Eddie wanted to gut her, pull Abby from her disgusting womb then string the bitch up. But she still served a purpose. His daughter wasn't in his arms yet, and wouldn't be anytime soon. Eddie needed her alive. For now.

Waylon and Clair had made it out of the vocational block and back into the main building. Things had started looking familiar to her – she'd remembered being brought down these halls before the security team had taken her to the basement. One of the doorways they wanted to take into the main lobby was blocked, so they decided to go up the stairs. They were close, _so close_. There would be elevators up on the next floor, and the main building still seemed to have power in it. As the pair exited the top of the stairs, Waylon placed a hand on Clair's shoulder to stop her from moving.

"Listen." He whispered. Clair did as she was told and stayed silent. Then she heard what he had: the sound of people on radios. The kind police officers use. Something moved at the end of the hall in front of them, and two individuals dressed in black swat armor stepped into the light. There was a metal fence separating the two parties. Clair couldn't stop the giant smile that spread across her face. They must be here to help them, to get the people out who survived the.

"Hey! Hey down here!" Waylon called, his expression of relief mimicking Clair's. They were going to make it out of here alive.

She was only slightly concerned when the two swat officers looked at one another and didn't attempt to reply to Waylon's shouting. Something felt wrong. Why weren't they walking over to them? Waylon looked more irritated then anything, and started towards them down the hall.

"What's wrong with you guys? There are people here trying to kill us!" He called.

Clair felt her stomach drop when one of them raised their gun and pointed at Waylon. He froze, then started to shuffle back as quickly as his could. His heel jammed into the corner of a flipped table, and he toppled back as the gun went off. Her ears were ringing and she dropped to the floor behind the table, her hands frantically grasping for Waylon. She got ahold of his jumper and helped him shuffle behind the barricade.

There was blood. Oh god, he'd been shot. Clair flipped him over to and let out a shaky sigh when she saw the blood dripping from his upper arm. It wasn't fatal. Waylon cussed and gripped the wound with his other hand.

"Why the _fuck _are they shooting us?" He said through clenched teeth. Clair wasn't sure, and just shook her head in response. They were safe for now, and she assumed they didn't have a key to the door separating the hallway, but they needed to get out. It was more urgent now than before. Clair helped Waylon to his feet and they stayed close to the wall, trying their best to stay out of the line of fire. They were finally able to breathe when they turned a corner down another hall. The elevators were in sight now.

Waylon waved Clair off from helping him and hurried over to the elevator, a thankful smile playing at his lips when he noticed the lights on the buttons were lit up.

"It's working." He said happily. The gate on the elevator was shut, and as Waylon was in no position to open it. Clair, with some effort, slid it open. The two stepped inside and she shut the gate behind them – making sure to latch the lock.

She almost choked on her heart when Eddie slammed himself against the gate, his hair unkempt and his eyes full with rage. He'd found her. He was never going to stop – never going to leave her alone. It was Mark all over again.

"You disgusting _whore!" _He barked, giving the bars a firm shake. He pulled at the gate again, jerking it to the side as hard as he could, but even a man of his size couldn't undo the latch. Eddie slammed his foot on the bars and moved back, his whole body radiating hate. Waylon had fallen back onto the ground when Eddie had appeared out of nowhere, his hand had moved from his hurt arm to his chest, trying to catch his breath.

"Abandoning slut. You can't take my child from me. I won't let you leave. Ever. You'll never make it out of this place." He seethed. Eddie was pacing in front of the elevator like a rabid animal. "I'm going to tear her from you wretched womb!" Eddie let out a breath from his noise, and Clair only noticed now that he had the doll she'd given him in his hand. He brought it up to his face and stroked its hair, his expression contorting into pain.

"Not yet though. Not until she's ready to come out and see her father. You'll stay with me till then."

Clair's body had started to shake, and she felt the sting of tears at the side of her eyes. She knew he was telling the truth. He'd never let her leave here. Not while he thought his child –

"Eddie." Clair said softly. He whipped his head around and stared at her, his shoulders heaving with every breath. She swallowed and tried to wet her lips, unsure of what she was about to do. "Eddie, I need to talk to you. Please – please come here."

He was obviously cautious, his brows crumpling together in confusion. He wasn't expecting her to speak to him like this, he was expecting Clair to beg for her life. With the doll still gripped in his hand, he moved over to the elevator, his long legs getting him there in only a few steps. His bright blue eyes darted over her face, waiting, _impatiently_, for whatever it was she had to say.

It took her a moment to get the words out, but when she finally did, she felt disgusting.

"I lost the baby."

Eddie didn't seem to register what she was saying at first and he took a step back from the elevator. He quickly lifted his hand to his head and smoothed back his hair.

"What?" He asked. He was in a daze.

God, she didn't want to say it again. "Eddie, I had a miscarriage. That's why I-I left. I wanted to be alone. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sor—"

"No!" Eddie shouted. "You're lying. That's all woman do is _lie. _My baby is not _dead. _Abby isn't gone. You lied about staying with me, you lied about loving me, and you're lying about this you deceitful _bitch." _

She couldn't stop the tears anymore, and they came pouring down her face without warning. Clair tried desperately to wipe them away, but they wouldn't stop. This had all just been too fucking much. She harbored no love for this man, but that didn't mean she wasn't fully aware of what her words were going to do to him. Did he deserve to feel this way? To feel distraught, confused and scared? He'd done that to his victims and more. Maybe he did deserve this – but she didn't want to be the one administering the punishment. It just wasn't in her to do it.

Eddie interpreted her sobbing as evidence towards what he had assumed to be a lie and his brows clenched in horror.

"She's _dead?" _He mumbled. "But I was supposed to _protect her. _Not let anything happen to her. She can't be gone before she was even _here." _

Eddie stumbled over to the gate and wrapped his fingers over the metal, his left hand holding the doll to his chest. Loss contorted his face, and it took everything Clair had to not say something comforting to him. She just stared. Slowly, Eddie pushed himself away and back until his back met with the opposite wall. He slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The doll now sat in his lap, both of his hands wrapping around its back and holding it upright. Eddie started to hum now, his large thumb stroking the doll's red hair. It was something different from what she'd heard him humming before, it sounded more like a lullaby.

Before she had a chance for her mouth the betray her and say something to him, Waylon clicked the button on the elevator and it started to descend. Clair jerked at the sudden movement, then backed up and sat down next to Waylon. They were silent for a moment, but only just.

"_What the fuck was that?" _He asked. Waylon's hand was gripping the wound again, but she was guessing the blood loss wasn't what was making him look so pale. How on earth could she explain any of that? Coherently anyway. Clair started to give him the cliff note version, explaining the mock wedding and the room full of bodies, but before she could finished she was interrupted by the sound of gun shots. The two looked up to the floor they had just been on, and Clair involuntary covered her mouth. They'd shot him. The swat team they'd seen before must have found a way around and killed him while he was mourning on the floor.

"Good." Clair let out in a shaky voice. "He can't hurt anyone anymore – including himself." The thought of him holding that doll pained her more than it should have, but it was better this way. Waylon could go home now, get back to his family, and Clair could have the chance to try and put herself back together again.


	11. Chapter 11

Hey everyone! So sorry this chapter took so long! Trigger warning for abuse in this chapter. One more to go! Pictures for this part can be found on my tumblr.

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The elevator came to a stop and both Clair and Waylon lingered inside. The gore down in the main lobby was just as intense and horrifying as the rest of the asylum. The floors, the welcome desk, everything was covered in a thick layer of blood. Clair was the first to take a step out, and as she did, the full realization of escaping the asylum hit her. The door outside was _just a couple feet away. _Bright, beautiful morning light was flooding in and cutting the gloom. She'd been in this nightmare for no more than a day, but it still felt like an eternity.

Waylon followed her out of the elevator moments after, and the two started to make their way towards the door. Clair stopped next to the information desk. She hadn't really thought about it before now, as escaping was the only thing occupying her mind for the last several hours, but where was she going to go? She still had three more years of rehabilitation before they were going to even look at her file again. She could turn herself in. Get set up in another institution for the remainder of her sentence. It wasn't that she considered herself crazy, but she needed help. The things that man had _done_ to her. Nobody just walks away from that, not without some scars. And _oh_, did she have scars. She thought she'd been getting better that past few months, but meeting Eddie had torn all her progress down.

God, Eddie. She wasn't naïve enough to think he'd actually cared for her, but all his words still hung around her neck. Choking her. Making Clair regret everything she'd said to him. Words had a way of getting under her skin, and she clung to them, internalized them quickly. But Eddie was a murderous, cruel monster, and she needed to keep reminding herself of that. She needed to remember all those _bodies_.

"Clair?"

Waylon was half way to the door when he turned around, noticing she was leaning against the welcome desk. He walked back over to her, his hand still gripping is wound tightly, and pressed his hip on the wood counter for support. She could see he looked worried. And irritated. They needed to get out of here and she, like an idiot, was holding them up.

"Is everything alright?" He asked. Clair raked her upper lip with her teeth and looked away, a bitter snort leaving her nose.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when I get out." She explained. "I think I might just turn myself in-"

"What?" Waylon interrupted. "Clair, you can't just turn yourself in. Murkoff is going to come after us. I knew something was off the moment that swat team tried to kill us – they don't want any survivors. They don't want people knowing what they do here. If you go off to another institution, they'll get you."

She hadn't thought of that. What was she going to do now, live in the damn woods? She'd never gone to college, Mark wouldn't let her get a job - there was nothing she could do. As if Waylon was listening to her inner panic, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey. You can stay with me for a while. I want you to meet Lisa and the boys. I'm not sure what would have happened if we hadn't run into each other."

"You wouldn't have spent half of your time here looking for me." Clair laughed. "I think I've been more dead weight than anything else."

Waylon smiled at her, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I would rather be chasing your ass around this god forsaken place then be stuck in here alone. No one wants to be alone in here."

There it was again. That pang of guilt. She'd heard Eddie muttering about being alone – how much he hated it. It might have been the one thing out of his mouth she actually believed to be true. She'd left him to die alone. Clair's stomach clenched but she forced a grin. Waylon was being so kind, she didn't want him thinking her sour expression was because of him.

"Well, I would love to meet your wife and kids. Thank you. Really." Clair said. Waylon nodded at her and pushed off then information desk, moving towards the door again. All things considered, they'd come out of this place fairly unscathed. Yeah, Waylon was shot, but he wasn't dead. And herself? Clair placed a hand over the bandage on her cheek and peeled it off. The area was still raw and swollen, but she didn't notice till now that there were small stiches in the gash. He'd closed up the wound – she'd thought he'd just covered it up.

Didn't matter. He was going to gut her. Hang her in that gym then run off to find another person to do the same thing to. Monster. He was a monster. He had bodies hanging from the ceiling, and he was a monster. She repeated it to herself like a prayer and followed Waylon to the door.

The world suddenly flipped and a surge of pain pulsed through her head. Clair was flung back by her hair and her skull bounced off the floor. Her vision blurred and she let out a chocked cry. Even with her sight impaired, when Clair lifted her head off the ground, she knew who it was. Tall, broad, wielding a knife. Eddie.

How in hell had he survived? They'd heard the gun shots – but he didn't seem to have a wound on him. Any wounds she could see, anyway, it was hard to tell when he had so much blood on him. Eddie had been sitting in the dark across from the elevators, had he really gotten the jump on them? It didn't matter how he'd survived now; the point was, he _had_. Clair instinctively flung her arms in front of her face, waiting for his knife to come down. He loomed above her, chest heaving.

"_I would have loved you forever."_ He whispered, his voice dripping with sorrow and rage. Eddie turned on his heel away from her and started towards Waylon.

Panic filled her body and she tried to scramble to her feet. "Eddie – Eddie come back please!" She called. "We need to talk. Please, we should talk about Abigail!" She needed to say something, anything, to pull his attention away from Waylon, but it wasn't working.

"_You_." He seethed. "I remember where I've seen your face now. I asked you for _help. _Instead, you do this? You took my baby away, didn't you_?" _Eddie was on top of him now, and Waylon let out a cry when a fist slammed into his face.

"_Eddie!" _Clair shouted, she was on her feet now, trying to hurry over. "Oh god please stop!"

"I'll kill you." Eddie growled out, his voice quivering slightly. He lifted the knife over his head and Waylon kneed him in the jaw. The blade fell from Eddie's hand and slide on the floor. "You jack-booted fuck!"

Losing his knife didn't hinder him and he grasped Waylon's neck with both of his hands. Eddie continued to snarl as he tried to choke the life out of the smaller man. Clair was right behind them now and her gaze fell onto Eddie's knife. She hadn't had to kill a single person while she was here. Not one. Did she have to kill Eddie? Of all people?

Stop thinking. She knelt to the ground and picked up the blade – it was half the size of her arm. It was heavy, but she wasn't surprised he was able to swing it around so effortlessly all the time. When Clair stood back up, something felt off. The arm holding the knife started to shake and she tried to steady it with her other hand. Waylon was screaming – she could hear his choked moans. Move. She needed to move. Clair stepped towards Eddie, his knife clutched tightly in her shaking hand.

Their blue rug was maroon now, and he was going to be so angry with her.

He'd brought up that subject again. She hated when he talked about children. How kind he sounded. How wanting. Like he would be the perfect father. 'I'll protect them.' He'd say, 'I'll spoil them so much.' She knew better, though. She'd always known better.

For the first 9 years Mark had been so focused on his career that children had never even crossed his mind. He hadn't even mentioned them until his friends and co-workers started to have children. Then, out of the blue, he _needed _to be a father. He needed to be like everyone else – just better.

Most of the time something would interrupt the conversation. The phone would ring, one of his friends would come over, something.

Not tonight. She was making dinner, pasta, it was his favorite. Clair only ever made his favorites, and made sure to always make them right. He'd come into the kitchen and started to talk about it again. She waited for the interruption, but it didn't come. He wanted a straight answer this time, wanted her to be excited, to _tell him how much she wanted this too. _

Clair said no. She remembered every time he hit her, punched her, told her no one would ever love her, and stopped her from calling her parents and her friends. Clair said no.

She heard the smack before she felt it across her face. Mark was screaming at her, call her horrible things, and she gasped when his foot met with her stomach. He was so angry with her and she knew this time he might not stop. He might actually kill her this time. The umbrella. That fucking umbrella. He was going for it by the door. It was left there so casually, a normally benign object used for disgusting things.

She followed him, the serrated knife she had been using to cut bread still in her hand. This was it, he was going for the umbrella, and he didn't even know she was behind him. He was the one unaware now.

Their blue rug was maroon now, but she didn't care that he'd be angry. She didn't have to care.

Clair stepped over to the small table where their phone sat. She placed her knife down and picked up the phone to call the police. Calm. That's all she felt. She was aware of what she'd done, but it hadn't fully sunk in yet. The body, with twenty-two stab wounds they would later tell her, didn't seem real. Like it wasn't actually him. Like he would walk through that front door and the pain would start again.

The couch had remained clean and Clair sat down to wait for the police to show up.

Clair felt sticky. The room around her was coming back into focus and for some reason she'd ended up on the floor. There had been screaming, she was screaming, then everything had stopped. She felt a hand press on her shoulder and she jerked away, her eyes wide and turning up. Waylon. He was covered in blood – but it didn't look like any of it was his. Whose? He turned his head from her and looked over to the welcome desk. Clair followed his gaze.

Eddie. He was slumped against the desk, his chin pressed against his chest, and both arms hung to his sides. The smear of blood across the floor suggested he dragged himself there – but Clair couldn't remember. She didn't remember anything. The white parts of his outfit that had stayed clean before were now maroon. And like Mark, it didn't matter if he was angry with her.

"Hey."

Waylon was talking to her now, but she didn't turn her face away from Eddie. There were so much blood, but she wasn't convinced he was dead.

"You saved me, Clair. You did what you had to do. Remember we talked about that? When we first met? You did what you had to do then, and you did the same now."

Clair nodded but still wouldn't turn to look at him. She wondered what went through his mind while she was stabbing him. Had he felt angry? Betrayed? _Relieved? _He'd looked like he was in so much pain. Not just physical pain, either. The only time he hadn't looked horrible was when they'd been in bed together. Not while it was happening, no, but after. She'd felt sick then but there'd been a shift in him, only briefly. Like he actually might have trusted her in that moment.

But he was sick, and cruel, and a monster. There would be no more bodies hanging from the ceiling now.

"_Clair." _

They needed to leave, she knew that. On shaky legs Clair lifted herself off the ground. His knife was still in her hands, and she had no intention of leaving it behind. She leaned into Waylon and the two helped each other walk out of the Asylum. There was a body by the door. He looked to be an executive of some kind. Blue suit, black hair, but he was clutching a wound on his stomach that must have cause him to bleed out. She heard Waylon make a type of groan above her in regard to the body, but they didn't linger long.

The feeling of actual sunlight made her skin prickle and Clair couldn't hold back a smile, or the tears, as they made their way outside.


	12. Chapter 12 - End

**Hello everyone! This is the last chapter - more of an epilogue really. I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! It's been a heck of a ride and I can't tell you how much I appreciate all the favorites and especially reviews. The encouragement I received during this whole process really kept me going. So thank you, again, to everyone who's stuck with me to this point!** _(If you'd like to see doodles, or more interactions between Clair and Eddie, please come find me on tumblr at Amarvelfangirl and Clairjohnson. Thanks!)_

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Clair was having that dream again. She'd expected nightmares, lots of them. She expected to see the bodies, his disfigured face, to be able to hear the sound of his voice. What she hadn't expected was dreaming about being in bed. Feeling safe. Clair didn't want to feel this way in a dream he was in. Her therapist told her it was probably her way of coping, but that didn't make the dream any less distressing.

It was always the same. She'd wake up in a small, tidy bedroom with a giant white comforter over her body. God, it felt so good. Curled up in a tank top and sweatpants – she didn't want to leave. Then he'd show up. He'd always come around from the other side of the bed, yawning and stretching, before treading over to her.

"Darling."

No. She wasn't going to acknowledge him. Not in this setting. Not like this. Clair moved under the covers more, like she did every time she had this dream, and placed her hands over her ears.

"Darling?"

He placed his hand on her blanket covered shoulder and gave it a rub. This was always the hardest part. Having him try and _touch _her. She never wanted him to touch her again. These dreams were worse than any nightmare she expected to have. Clair could deal with the blood, and his face, and the bodies – but this was too much for her.

Eddie would eventually leave and walk towards the bedroom door. He'd give her a fleeting, worried look before opening it and walking out. She never could see what was out that doorway – it was always just a giant wall of white light. For 2 months she'd been having the same dream and not once had she gotten out of bed. If she stayed in the same place long enough Clair would eventually wake up.

But not tonight. Her therapist told her things had to change.

She really didn't want to go through that fucking door.

Clair lifted herself from the bed and moved the covers out of the way, her body now freezing. She wanted to climb back under, but at this point, it wasn't an option. She couldn't stand this dream anymore – it needed to end. The carpet was soft against her feet as she padded over to the bedroom door. With a shaky hand she gripped the knob and pulled.

There wasn't a wall of light anymore, just yellow walls. Soft yellow. She stepped out into what looked like a living room and turned her head to the right. Two couches were situated around a coffee table, all the furniture bathed in rays of light coming from the glass slider door. Through the glass she could see grass, a brilliant green, kept close to the house by a white fence. It all looked like something out of a 60's television show.

"Oh good sweetheart, you're awake. I was getting worried."

His voice made her insides flip and she slowly turned to face him. He wasn't covered in blood, or disfigured: he was normal, dressed in a white button up shirt and black pants. Oh, she had been right before, he was handsome without all the sores and gore. He gave her a smile and placed a large hand on her bare shoulder. Her first instinct was to jerk away – but she stayed put. He couldn't hurt her here.

"Abby has been asking for you all morning, you're supposed to drive her to school today." He said, disappearing back into the kitchen across from the living room.

_Abby. _

She was sitting at the kitchen table, a bowl of cereal in front of her. She couldn't have been more than six or seven. One of her tiny hands held a spoon, but she instantly placed it down on the table, a smile blossoming on her face.

"Good morning Mommy!" Abigail said, jumping down from her seat and hurrying over to Clair. The child wrapped her arms around her mother's middle and beamed up at her. Clair didn't move at first. The sight of this fictional child was too much for her. She remembered her and Eddie's last real conversation. How he wanted a house, a family, to be a father. That was exactly this – and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why she was here. Dreaming this.

The child below Clair creased her brows when her mother didn't responded and Eddie poked his head out from the kitchen.

"Is everything all right, darling? You seem off." Eddie walked over and placed the back of his hand on Clair's forehead, his expression souring as he made a tsk noise. "Oh, you feel much too warm. Stay here today, I'll take her to school." He said while placing his large hand on the top of Abby's head. The girl hurried away from him and picked her backpack up from near the door.

"I'll pick her up on my way home. You go get some rest." His voice was a little condescending. As he made his way to the front door – something happened. The wall started to become dark, the paint curling and peeling off. The furniture became tattered and worn and Clair felt herself start to sweat. She snapped her head in the direction of the door and her stomach dropped.

He was Eddie again. Blood-soaked and horrifying. The monster she'd remember for the rest of her life. He was still smiling at her, but it wasn't pleasant. It was hard and twisted – there was no love behind it. She doubted he'd ever actually loved or received love in his life. Her daughter was holding his hand and her own smile was gone. She was staring at Clair, somber, and then she turned back to her father.

That is what he would have done, if he had it his way. He would have made a home just like the one he was raised in. Maybe it would have been different if he'd gotten help before – long before any the abuse had started. But not now. Not when she knew him. He was too far gone by that point. Clair wanted to reach out and grab the child, to take her close and hide her from him, but it was too late. Eddie opened the front door of the house and the two walked out in silence.

Clair woke up in a pool of sweat, the sheets clinging to her body as she tried to sit up. There were tears in her eyes and she blinked them away.

She needed this. Clair had been questioned after her and Waylon had escaped the asylum, and she'd brushed over her interaction with Eddie. Played him off as broken man who'd lost all touch with reality. She'd pitied him, tried to empathize with him, _to make excuses. _She'd made excuses for Mark, for almost 10 years she'd made excuses, and it needed to stop. They were both bad men who were nothing but words. They could weave a lie as easily as they could breathe. Clair needed that image of him.

She'd been staying with Waylon and his family for 2 months now, using their spare bedroom, and she felt like a burden. But Waylon had assured her she wasn't. He was gone most days, talking to police and news reporters, and Clair was left at home with Lisa. She was brilliant and kind, everything Waylon had said she would be while they were staying in the hospital. She was carful around both Clair and Waylon, doing her best not to mention certain things in fear she might set someone off. They talked a lot, Clair and Lisa, and she probably knew more about what happened to her than Waylon did.

Clair placed a hand on her stomach and frowned. There was another reason for that dream, she knew, but she wasn't ready to admit it yet. It was just too much. With the interviews and constant running around, she'd happily let what had happened in there fade into the background – at least for a little while. It was such a good distraction. But now that things were winding down she had time to think. And thinking was the worst. She'd hoped beyond hope that their coitus would yield nothing but shame and self-disgust – but that unfortunately wasn't the case.

On the subject of what to do about it, she wasn't sure. Lisa had noticed things that reminded her of her own two pregnancies, but Clair would always change the subject. Assure her that it wasn't the case. But it was. Clair listlessly fell back onto the cool damp sheets, a shiver wracking her body at the unpleasant sensation. In the morning – she'd deal with everything in the morning. She'd tell Lisa then, too, and Waylon. For now, though, she needed to get back to sleep.

The dream didn't come again that night.


End file.
